


To Live, To Love

by EmthelRackem



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Child Draco Malfoy, Childhood, Cute Draco Malfoy, Family Fluff, Gen, Growing Up, Hogwarts Fifth Year, Hogwarts First Year, Hogwarts Fourth Year, Hogwarts Second Year, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Hogwarts Third Year, Hurt/Comfort, Magical Bond, Protective Severus Snape, Protective Voldemort (Harry Potter), Sane Voldemort (Harry Potter), Secret Identity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:48:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 60,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23691877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmthelRackem/pseuds/EmthelRackem
Summary: Voldemort sends the Malfoys to the Potters, leaving Draco an orphan. Draco, sensing the strong magic around him, latches onto it, forming a Protector bond with the most feared wizard of his time.Drabbles as Voldemort learns to love, with a cute Draco leading him to family. Now including up to Fifth Year.
Relationships: Bellatrix Black Lestrange/Rodolphus Lestrange, Draco Malfoy & Severus Snape, Draco Malfoy & Voldemort, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, those last two are mild though
Comments: 139
Kudos: 367





	1. A few days - beginning

**Author's Note:**

> I'm bending magic and canon a bunch here, but most things are explained (hopefully). These are a series of interconnected drabbles (not in order) following Draco, Severus and Voldemort as they try and put together a family, as well as the Hogwarts years and what kind of repercussions this causes for everyone around them. I hope you enjoy!   
> I absolutely adore translations/fanworks of my things as long as you let me know and give credit. (Though of course, no pressure.)

In the Dark Lords wisdom, he visits neither child. A deliberate act as close to spitting in Dumbledore’s face as he can get. It’s satisfying to hear the prophecy and plot its downfall himself. He sends the Lestranges to the Longbottoms, and the Malfoys to the Potters.

(That’s not how it works, of course, the child is still marked, and Harry Potter will rise up and face him one day. But not today, and Voldemort is okay with that.)

Unfortunately, he loses a set of followers. The potters fight back, and both sets of parents die as a result. The Malfoys bodies though are picked up by Severus, grieving for his friends and his love. And that’s how the Dark Lord finds him.

What really calls him over is the whining of a child. The screams of a baby in fear and panic and for a second Voldemort is furious. How dare his follower go against him and take the Potter child, it was to be left, it was to die! But then he rounds the corner and he sees pale skin and paler hair, and Severus trying to rock the baby to sleep even as it cries.

“My Lord,” Severus acknowledges, bowing his head and covering the child in a blanket of greasy black, “I am sorry for the disturbance.”

“The Malfoys did not survive?” Voldemort asks, feeling the pang of loss, they were faithful and some of his sanest followers. They will be missed by those around him.

Severus nods, a movement which brings his nose almost to the babe's forehead, “I’ve been trying to get him to form a bond with me, he’ll settle then,” he explains, still clutching tight. Voldemort nods. It’s common knowledge that children too small to care for themselves will form a connection with those around them. A Protector and a Supporter, often the parents, regardless of gender. If the bonds are ripped away the child will form new ones, finding suitable replacements depending on who is around and how strong they are. 

In a moment of shared grief, and trying to support one of his inner circle, Voldemort reaches down to grasp Severus' shoulder. He jerks back almost immediately, but the damage has already been done. Draco, sensing the strong magic around him, has latched onto it, forming a Protector bond with the most feared wizard of his time. Not a second later Severus feels magic zip through him as well, Draco choosing him as his Supporter. 

“I’m sorry, My Lord,” Severus says, getting up in a swish of robes, fear at what his Lord will do now that he has been bound to a person. Draco settles down in his arms, grasping a section of robe and closing his eyes. Severus doesn’t even look at him, keeping his eyes on his Lord and stepping backwards slowly. 

The Dark Lord holds up a hand, halting Severus in his tracks. He takes a second, getting used to the bond in his magic, but also the feeling of the pieces of his soul. Before, his Horcruxes had been completely closed off from him, but Draco’s bond connects everything together. He feels reinvigorated, saner. He can think clearly, but it takes a second to separate everything again, this time through glass rather than concrete. Once he is able to find himself in the parts he had been previously cut off from he speaks.

“What is his name?” He asks, red eyes latching onto the sleepy silver-grey of the child.

“Draco Lucius Malfoy,” Severus replies automatically, wandering if Voldemort had asked to know what to put on his tombstone. Severus would fight him, let himself die before he lost everything he cared about in one night.

“Let me hold him,” The Dark Lord commands, perhaps being influenced by Nagini as she sits in the back of his mind now, her desire for little snakelings. Perhaps the Protector bond is influencing him, pushing him to do as the namesake suggests and protect the child that has deemed him worthy.

Severus hesitates, but Draco squirms a little a reaches hand out, still feeling scared and wondering why he hasn’t been placed with his Protector yet. He hands the baby over, Voldemort trying his best to copy Severus’ hand positions, supporting the head. Draco shuffles a bit in his arms and promptly shoves a fist in his mouth. 

Later, when Severus retires to bed, taking Draco for a bottle and transfiguring a cradle from his desk, Voldemort considers everything. He could twist this mentally, make this into him looking for an heir, trying to secure his legacy. He could be mad, this child forcing him to connect with his Horcruxes, weakening him. He’s not.

(And perhaps that’s the biggest disrespect to Dumbledore, that the dark side can feel love. That Voldemort does.)


	2. six years - stung

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How exactly, do two emotionally constipated adults take care of a child?

At 6, Draco is still a little small. Severus had fretted when the nurses had told him that he was slightly underweight, and hadn’t calmed down when they had insisted it was normal for children who had experienced severed bonds. 

(The Dark Lord had been amused by Severus attempting to feed Draco double serves for every meal, even more so when Draco had had enough and tried to feed Severus right back.)

He’s running around the back garden, content and humming. He can feel the bonds in him, weaker than when he was a baby, but still strong, he still needs help. Draco follows a peacock for a while, but quickly gets bored and decides to throw himself down a hill. It’s one of the few times he was unaccompanied, with both Severus and Voldemort being busy, and so Draco intends to make the most of it. He can climb things and run around and play in the puddles. The only thing keeping even half an eye on him are the peacocks. 

Draco lands at the bottom of the little hill, lush grass softening his fall, and starts to run back up again. Once at the top, he rolls back down, laughing as he lands at the bottom again. He repeats this process twice more, alternating between tuning down and jumping. He dashes back up again for his third round, getting onto his stomach and rolling down. Halfway down he feels a prick on his arm and his hurts. By the time he’s down the bottom of the hill again, he’s crying. His arm hurts so much!

He looks down and is surprised to see a bee wriggling around, attached to his arm somehow. Draco doesn’t want to touch it, doesn’t want to make it any worse.

“Vol-mort!” He screams, his magic pulling at the bond wound around his core, “Sev!” He sobs a little more, just holding his arm and crying. He hears the crack of apparition at the top of the hill and looks up to see Severus quickly making his way over.

“Draco, what happened?” He asks, taking in the rumpled clothing, the grass stains on his knees and the ring of mud around his ankles.

“Hurt my arm,” Draco offers, holding his arm out and struggling to his feet. Severus grabs it gently, spelling the bee away and the stinger out, gently gathering Draco into his arms as he cries out his pain.

“Come inside, I’ll get you cleaned up and I’ll give you a pain potion,” Severus takes Draco’s hand and leads him back inside the manor, down to his room where Severus helps him get into new clothes and gives him a potions bottle to drink.

“It’s yucky,” Draco insists, grumbling after Severus forced him to drink a gross drink while he was in pain. Eventually, though, his pain settles down and Draco feels energised again. 

He starts fidgeting in his chair, Severus ignoring him and going over papers his students had given him to check over. Draco huffs in frustration, and when that doesn’t get a reaction he huffs louder. When Severus only turns to look at him and raise his eyebrows, Draco crosses his arms but winces as he presses on his sting.

“Are you still in pain?” Severus asks, gently turning Draco’s arm so he can see the sting wound. Draco snatches his arm back and pouts.

“I want to see Voldemort,” Draco insists, and Severus sighs.

“He’s very busy right now if he could come and see you he would,” he explains, getting out his wand and gently casting a cleaning charm on the wound just so he can fuss a little bit more. He can feel Draco’s magic pushing against his own, still uncertain and wanting his Protector to come over and save him, even though the danger is passed.

“Can I go see him?” Draco asks, and Severus scoffs.

“No, he’s in a meeting with lots of different people, it's very important.”

“I’ll wear my fancy clothes!” Draco insists, getting up and running to his wardrobe, pulling the door open and taking out a black set with green edging, “see?”

Severus takes the robes out of Draco’s hands and puts them back into the closet. When he turns around and sees Draco sniffling and holding back tears he gives in.

“I will go and see if he can come and see you, okay?” Severus reasons, shepherding Draco so he sits down on his bed. “Mr Peacock will keep you company while you wait.” Severus gently places the soft toy peacock onto Draco’s lap, the toy being a gift from Bellatrix at his first birthday, and his favourite out of all them.

“Okay,” Draco says, cuddling the peacock to his chest. Severus knows that the sting isn’t hurting anymore and this tantrum is a combination of expelling all of his energy earlier and the increase in meetings his Lord had held as he plans to take down Dumbledore. Draco had been missing them both a little bit, and it was really only a matter of time before something like this occurred. 

Severus leaves the room and only makes it down two corridors before he finds Voldemort, who is making his way towards Draco’s room.

“Is the situation dealt with?” He asks, dismissing the two death eaters he was discussing plans with on the way.

Severus waits until the two are out of earshot before replying with “he got stung by a bee outside, and did not deal well with not being allowed to see you.”

The Dark Lord nods but makes no other noise, and picks his pace up a tick until he reaches Draco’s room. Inside Draco sits where Severus left him, although Mr Peacock seems to be having an intense conversation with Draco’s second favourite toy Miss Snake, a plush replica of Nagini who Draco often wraps around himself when it gets too cold outside. As the door opens Draco’s head snaps up and he leaps out of the bed and wraps his arms around Voldemort’s waist, jumping up and down in place.

“I heard you got hurt?” Voldemort says, gently looking over both of Draco’s arms after unwinding them from his person. Draco points out the mark on his arm, and Voldemort casts a charm on it. It’s nothing more than a show of sparkles but Draco laughs in delight, tugging both Voldemort and Severus over to his bed. Severus sits but Voldemort refuses, standing to lock the room door and removing his outermost robe (which has been tastefully ripped by Nagini in order to look both scary and refined) before settling down next to him.

Draco, after explaining everything he did today and what exactly Mr Peacock and Miss Snake were talking about, forces Voldemort to read him a story and lets Severus gives him a quick bath and tuck him into bed. He’s a lot more settled after being able to see them both, the tugging of their magic calming down once Draco had proof they were okay and they cared about him. 

Severus retires back to his own room, and Voldemort follows, after instructing Nagini to keep an eye on Draco for the night.

In the morning he’s still his rambunctious 6-year-old self, but for the night he sleeps peacefully.


	3. ten years - heritage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you grow up in an ancestry home without your ancestry, how do you know who you are meant to live up to?

At 10, Draco is almost constantly clad in green. He’ll let Severus dress him in silvers and blacks and blues, but he’ll always pick out green first. He has also been spending more time in front of the family tree. He traces the patterns, from his great-grandfather all the way down to him. He follows his finger to his Aunt Bellatrix, to the blackened marks where Severus says his cousins used to be, to the faint line between himself and Severus. The only faint silver line, denoting adoption through both legal and magical means. Severus’ portrait is faint, but he can see it smiling at his parents. 

His parents, who died when he was little, who look just like him, but so different. Draco touches his own hair, thinks of growing it out like the man he says in front of him.

When he goes into Severus’ room and touches the three uniforms he finds hanging there, he feels a little scared. Sometimes he’ll hide in the back of the cupboard, curl a cloak around his shoulders and just sit there and imagine the Slytherin common room. 

When his friends come over, Pansy and Theo and Blaise and Greg and Vince, they always play Hogwarts. One of the kids sitting upfront and teaching them made up spells, or all of them sitting in the parlour and pretending its a common room. They’ve already all decided to be in Slytherin together. 

Sometimes they would drag Severus in and he would be their head of house. When they were younger it meant Severus would help supply them with toys, but now he would sit with them and pretend to they would all drink tea (or warm milk for those who couldn’t appreciate tea properly yet.) Next year Severus would refuse some times they asked, only to slowly get them used to the idea that he wouldn’t be around all the time at school.

Sometimes, when he was feeling particularly excited about magic he would run over to Severus and help him with potions. Sometimes, when Voldemort (or Marvolo, as Draco had been instructed to call him in the outside world) was nearby he would let Draco hold his wand for a while. The wand did not react well to Draco’s magic, and so he wasn’t allowed to play with it for more than fifteen minutes.

However, in a box under Severus’ bed lie two more wands. Draco isn’t allowed to play roughly with them, but he’s scared they’ll break anyway so he never does. When Severus lets him, and when Draco wants to sneak a peak, Draco will just hold them. Sometimes he makes a swishing motion, but he never casts a spell. He’s worried how the wands will react to his magic.

(He’s worried that they will reject him, that his parents’ wands will not see him worthy of carrying the Malfoy name, that he’ll break them both.)

Severus and Marvolo both had assured him that his parents would have loved him, that they were good loyal people who had fought for the cause and had died valiantly. Draco looked up to them sure, but sometimes he felt lonely, sometimes he traced around their portraits and imagined what it would have been like to grow up with a mum and a dad, not just an uncle Severus and a Marvolo. 

He tries to not let it bring him down, he does think that Severus and Marvolo did an excellent job raising him (and no, that is not bias, why would you even think that?), but he lives in Malfoy Manor, he plays in the Malfoy Gardens, it’s always felt like he’s not a proper Malfoy unless he gets raised by them.

He shakes his head, satisfied when only the artfully placed strands of hair fall into his face, and stands up. He runs into the library, up the staircase of books he has assembled, and plucks his favourite book from the top shelf. He sits in one of the red chairs, still having to use the step to push himself up, and starts to read. 

That’s how Severus finds him two hours later, curled up around the family ancestry book.


	4. a few weeks - introductions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Voldemort and Severus do occasionally need a babysitter, but who to choose?

Draco isn’t necessarily a fussy baby. He’ll cry for his bottles, or when he’s upset, but if his needs are filled he finds no reason to fuss about in his cot. This is especially important when Voldemort decides to let some of his Death Eaters know of Draco’s existence. 

Voldemort and Severus pour over the Death Eaters, deciding the most trusted and most loyal. (And doesn’t it just hurt them both that once the Malfoy’s would have been at the top of that list, that aside from the Malfoy’s and Severus there are few Voldemort trusts with this child’s life.)

They decide them quickly, not letting their still fresh grief weigh them down. (It’s troubling that Voldemort lets himself feel grief, a few weeks ago Voldemort would have acknowledged their loss and moved on. The part of his soul that can still feel things like that is connected back to him now, and Voldemort can not honestly say he would want it any other way.)

Dismissing the other followers from the meeting, Voldemort keeps behind Bellatrix, Crouch Jr and the Lestrange brothers. Severus stays behind as well, keeping with the others as they approach him and bow low. Voldemort motions for them to rise.

“I call you together because I will entrust you with a most important task,” Voldemort says, “I have chosen you specifically because of the loyalty you have shown me, and will continue to show me,” he stresses this point, silently promising pain and suffering if they turn from him, “do you accept this responsibility?”

All of them bow, muttering “Yes, my Lord” in almost perfect unison. As they stand, he motions for Severus to leave and gather the child. He also uses legilimency and takes a quick look in their minds, searching for any thought of betrayal. There is nothing, they are all loyal to him, perhaps more so now that he seems saner. Bellatrix is still grieving, believing all the Malfoy’s wiped out, and that hurts her soul, but she is still faithful.

Then Severus returns, Draco swaddled in dark cloth and hidden from sight and Voldemort addresses them again.

“This requires protection and secrecy, no one can know from outside this room,” he says, and then Severus walks up to them and gently takes the blanket away from the baby. Bellatrix is over in an instant, reaching for Draco as if to take him into her arms. Crouch Jr takes hurried steps forward but stops at the sight of a baby in Severus’ arms and doesn’t seem to be able to get his brain to believe what is in front of him. The Lestranges react quite differently, with Rodolphus coming over to support his wife while Rabastan prowls in a small circle, looking from afar but from all angles.

“Is this Cissy’s?” Bellatrix asks, “Is this my little nephew?” She reaches a hand out, tears dripping down her face as Draco latches on to a finger.

“Is this to be your heir, my Lord?” Rabastan asks, coming to stand just behind Severus as if to be able to neutralise the threat. 

“The child is bonded to me by magic, but he will not be taking my name,” Voldemort explains, “my connection to him will be kept secret.” Nagini hisses from her place at his feet as if to back up his threat. Rabastan nods once, averting his gaze in submission. 

“The child recognises the power of your magic,” Crouch Jr praises, still not having moved any closer. Bellatrix hisses at him, whipping her head around. Her face is tear-stained but the rage on it is overshadowing any sadness.

“His name is Draco,” she snarls, then abruptly mellows out again, “Cissy named him after the constellation.” Draco tugs her finger enough to get her to refocus on him, his grip not quite strong enough and his hand ends up slipping a bit.

“Will you be changing his name?” Rodolphus asks Severus, speaking in low tones. The Dark Lord does not mind that he is being placed just to the side in order for his followers to put their focus on the child. He sits back and lets them, they will return their full attention to him eventually.

“His name will be kept the same,” Severus explains, “I will be adopting him formally, as well as magically. We hope you will help us raise him when we are otherwise unavailable.” He is sure there is no issue for Bellatrix in that statement, with her full attention being put into getting Draco to smile at her. Rodolphus nods sagely, motioning to Rabastan who then moves to bracket Severus, rather than stifle him. It also gives him the ability to get a closer look at the child, whose face scrunches up in confusion at the similar brothers. 

Crouch Jr also steps a few paces forward, his view being cut off by the Lestrange family. He glances at his Lord before making any move toward the child, but his Lord seems not to care too much about Crouch Jr placing his hand on Draco’s head. 

The baby’s nose scrunches further at the intrusion and he turns away from all of them and back into the safety of his Supporter. The followers all back off as one, wisely giving Draco space before his discomfort gives way to crying, and face Voldemort.

“No one is to know that this child is connected to me,” The Dark Lord explains leaning forward in his throne, “he is to be Severus’ child both legally and magically if asked, Draco bonded to him immediately and did not require further magic.”

“Will you be present in his life, my Lord?” Bellatrix asks, tears still on her face, but composed. Voldemort hesitates slightly, noticeable to no one but Nagini at his feet.

“That remains to be seen,” he says, before dismissing them all. Severus stays, still holding Draco in his arms. Voldemort feels the bond in his magic, Draco’s magic calling to him after the unsettling introduction to so many people, but not actively distressed. Severus would be getting that right now. He stands and makes his way over, not taking Draco from Severus but reaching a hand out for Draco to grab. 

Draco does so, grabbing a section of Severus’ robes in his other hand. He brings them together, and Voldemort can’t fault him for it. He can’t really fault him for anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually spent about 15 minutes looking up who were the most trusted death eaters. Still feel iffy about it though. I hope you enjoyed, and I'm sorry for skipping a lot in ages, but I'm chaptering everything with age so hopefully it's easier to navigate.  
> As always, have a nice day!


	5. two years - birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a birthday party unlike any other

Having a birthday party for a two-year-old in the middle of the base of the Dark Side’s operation is a fairly easy affair. Especially when the child’s semi-parent is in charge of the Dark Side and can order everyone out for fear of death. Very few were invited, only those trusted with his life. Severus had tried to introduce Draco to some of the other children but organising play dates for one-year-olds was not as successful as he had hoped.

So, Draco’s second birthday had very little fanfare, just a cake and five other guests. Severus and Voldemort were there, as well as the Lestranges and Crouch Jr. He still hadn’t quite wrapped his head around the fact that his Lord has a child, but he was trying to be loyal and supportive. The Lestranges were mostly okay, with Bellatrix doting on Draco and Rodolphus supporting her in that. Rabastan was still nervous, he still would keep his distance and show affection by guarding the child, even though he really did not need to be guarded.

On the table in front of them was a birthday cake, a collection of gifts, and a few plates. Draco was happily playing on the floor, wearing forest green children’s robes over a white dress shirt. Severus was keeping him away from the cake purely because he didn’t want Draco making a mess too soon. 

Giving the gifts to Draco was almost a ceremony, with Bellatrix first kneeling down before Draco and handing the gift to him. Last year the adults had unwrapped them, Draco not quite having grasped the concept of opening gifts. This year they were wrapped when given to Draco, the adults hoping he would work it out on his own.

Draco looked at the brightly wrapped gift before him (a shade of green with silver snakes slithering around) and picked it up. He shook it gently, laughing at the rattling that it prompts. He promptly drops it and the adults seem to sigh as one. Bellatrix takes the box back and gently tears a corner of the paper where Draco can see.

This grabs Draco’s attention, and he makes grabby hands until the box is given back to him. Draco then attacks the box, the paper peeling off in strips until the gift is unearthed. When Draco sees that there is only another box he gives it back to Bellatrix.

“More?” He asks, and Bellatrix smiles at him.

“Dracey,” she singsongs, opening the box, “it’s inside!” She pulls out the gift, a magic toy dragon that flaps its wings. Severus wonders if the moving parts will pinch his skin but when Draco takes it the dragon moves slower, stopping when it feels resistance. Draco shakes the toy a little, startling when it squeaks at him. 

“Sorry dragon,” Draco mutters gently putting the dragon on the ground and patting its head. The dragon curls up and seems to go into stasis. Rabastan takes this opportunity to give Draco another box, visibly giving Draco a rip before handing it over. Once again Draco tears into it and reveals a soft blanket. Draco, used to playing with Nagini, sets the blanket over his legs and the toy dragon.

Crouch Jr hands over his gift next, a set of blocks with simplified wand movements on the sides. He smiles shyly as Draco immediately begins stacking them, knocking them over and plucking the ‘wingardium leviosa’ block from the air when it floats. Severus and Voldemort don’t give him their gifts yet, instead setting him in his highchair. Severus waves his wand and the candles light up on the cake. 

This grabs Draco attention, who glances at his guardians nervously.

“Hot,” he mumbles, not letting his hands go anywhere close. He had had a few incidents off getting too close to the fireplaces (which people frequently entered and left from, leading to Draco attempting the same without the proper magic) and had been nervous ever since.

“Blow it out,” Severus tells him, bringing the cake a little closer. Draco does so, the fire going out easier than expected thanks to a few well-placed charms. Severus cuts him a piece and gives it to him, along with a little fork. He knows a mess is going to be made but it’s better to try and minimise the radius. 

The guests each got a piece for themselves, sitting around the ornate table and starting to eat. Bellatrix sat the closest to Draco and kept talking to him, delighting when he responded to her. Once the cake was finished and the presents stacked in the corner, the guests said their goodbyes. Draco hugged every guest as they left, stumbling through proper thank yous and goodbyes. 

Once alone, Severus gave Draco his gift, no wrapping paper on it. 

“A book,” Draco says, half happy half confused, “stories?”

Severus gently opens it and directs Draco’s gaze to the page. “This is you.” In front of him is a small picture of Draco, a portrait magically inserted at his birth, with Narcissa and Lucius standing around him. Draco grabs the book from him, just staring at the pictures.

“Ma and Dad,” Draco mumbles, then abruptly starts sniffling and reaches for Severus. He gets scooped up quickly, the book still grasped in his hand. Voldemort gently takes it from him.

“Do you want it read to you?” He asks and Draco nods, so they all settle down in a circle in the floor. Voldemort begins reading the Malfoy history as far back as it could be traced, Draco listening intently. It’s not the first time they’ve mentioned his parents, but it’s the most tangible evidence he has right now that they were actual people. 

Tired from the party, he dozes off with Severus and Voldemort bracketing him and he dreams of a family of five.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a while to get out! I'm very sorry. I've been trying to fit the entirety of first year into a oneshot which has taken most of my attention, although this one has been ready to go so I didn't want to leave you waiting!
> 
> The first year oneshot (which is almost done and is looking to be 2,500 words long) will most likely be a part of this drabble set although that means the tags may explode in size. I was thinking of putting it into a new work and having them both be part of the same series. I might do that later, but for now this is most likely going to be the only work I write in this AU. Although I lie often so I may rejig this once I've written some more. 
> 
> As always, I own very little and have a nice day!


	6. first year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How does the son of the Dark Lord handle Hogwarts? Very well, surprisingly.

Draco is alone at Madame Malkin’s. Severus had to pick up some more supplies for his classroom and Marvolo had asked him to look for something in one of the shops Draco wasn’t allowed in yet. The shop assistant (is this the Madame? Draco isn’t sure) is sizing him up, preparing school robes. Draco had asked if they could be green, but Severus had overridden his commands and requested the normal ones that changed with house.

Draco is tired of holding his arms out and getting bored when the bell rings, signally another customer. He turns his head, watching a boy his age come through the doors.

“Hogwarts too?” He asks, glad when the lady taps his arms, signally that he can step down.

“Yes,” the other boy says, watching the floating tape measure with great interest.

“My name’s Draco Malfoy,” he offers, holding his hand out as Severus taught him. He rethinks his statement and then amends, “sort of.”

“Sort of?” The other boy asks, taking a second longer than usual to shake his hand.

“My parents died when I was younger, I live with my uncle,” Draco gives the boy’s hand one solid shake, releasing it shortly after.

“Me too!” The boy says, “I’m Harry Potter.” The lady at the shop takes a moment to give Draco a receipt. As Draco turns to say thank you, he notices a massive figure outside the window. Harry follows his gaze and informs him that that is Hagrid.

“Is he your uncle?” Draco asks, openly staring. 

“No, he’s from Hogwarts,” Harry waves at the giant man, who waves back and heads towards the shop. He stops at the door, and both boys run out to meet him.

“Hello, I’m Draco Malfoy,” Draco introduces himself, holding a hand out for Hagrid to take. Hagrid gingerly grabs the hand offered to him, recognising him from the bits and pieces of description the teachers had managed to get from Severus about his mysterious charge.

“‘M Hagrid,” the groundskeeper replies, and then just to make sure, “I know Professor Snape.”

“Uncle Severus works at Hogwarts,” Draco explains to Harry before turning back around to address Hagrid, “are you the groundkeeper?” Hagrid furrows his eyebrows, nodding but bracing himself in case this small Malfoy decides to insult as he is sure the elder ones would.

“That’ll be me,” Hagrid allows and Draco lifts his chin a little and smiles.

“Uncle Severus says you find things for potions in the forbidden forest!” Draco grabs Harry’s hand and smiles at him, “the Forbidden Forest can kill you, at least, that’s what my friends say.” Hagrid carefully explains to both the boys that the forest isn’t that scary when you get to know it, that some of the animals just get scary when they're frightened. Halfway through his explanation Severus comes over, he looks over to Madame Malkins and pauses, sweeping his eyes around and visibly relaxing when he sees Draco chatting with Hagrid and another child.

“Draco,” Severus greets, before turning his gaze onto the half-giant, “I thought I told you to wait in the shop.”

“I’m sorry,” Draco says, dropping his gaze guiltily before springing back up, “I thought it would be okay because Hagrid is your friend.”

“A friend?” Hagrid asks hopefully, and Severus sneers at him.

“A colleague,” he corrects, tapping Draco’s shoulder to regain his attention, “say goodbye to your friend, we have to get your school books.” Draco complies, saying goodbye hurriedly and striding after Severus towards the book shop. When they get home, Severus helps Draco pack everything in his case, so in a few days, he can simply pick it up and get on the train. 

He grabbed the wand that he had gotten from Olivander’s and ran all the way into Marvolo’s room, Severus following after at a more sedate pace. He skidded to a halt at the door and knocked twice, almost skipping in when the door swung open. Voldemort turns to face him, a smile tugging at his lips as he sees the wand in Draco’s hand.

“I see the shopping was successful,” he says, not standing but instead letting Draco come to face him, “do you remember what it’s made of?”

“Hawthorn wood and unicorn hair core,” Draco recites dutifully, “Ollivander says it’s springy.” He swishes the wand around, delighting in the burst of colour that erupts from the end of his wand.

“Very impressive,” Voldemort praises, although he is worried about the complications of having such a pure core surrounded by concentrated dark magic.

“I also made a friend today,” Draco says as Severus passes through the doors and closes them behind him, “he was with the groundskeeper Hagrid, he said his name was Harry Potter!”

“Really?” Voldemort asks, locking eyes with Severus above Draco’s head and tipping his head gently in question. Severus pales a little more, furrowing his eyebrows as he connects the child he saw with Draco with the baby the Potters left behind years ago.

“Yeah, he’s going to Hogwarts too!” Draco tapped his hand with his wand as a nervous tic, Voldemort so hoped he would grow out of it, “I didn’t ask for his address.”

“You’ll see him on the Hogwarts express,” Severus reasons, “you could write to some of your other friends in the meantime.” He shoos Draco out of the room, watching as he turns down the corridor before facing the Dark Lord.

“I was unaware the identity of the child,” Severus says, not moving from his place at the door.

“Do you think this will be a problem?” Voldemort asks, as pragmatic as ever.

“He will probably grow out of his fascination once he is at Hogwarts, I don’t expect it to last.” 

——

Flying with a broom is not as easy as Draco expected. Marvolo was the only one who let him ride them at home, and he wasn’t a great teacher because he didn’t need to use one. The school brooms are a bit more temperamental and don’t really like any unexpected movements. 

Which is concerning because this is a class of first years learning to fly. The brooms should really not be temperamental. As evidenced by Neville falling from his broom and injuring himself.

In the following chaos, Neville’s remembrall was left on the ground. Draco picked it up, waving it in the air so his Gryffindor friends could see.

“Neville forgot his remembrall!” He exclaims, striding over to his broom. He mounts it gracefully, “do you want to play a game?”

He rises in the air, Harry following after a split second. “It’s glass though, won’t it break?” Harry asks.

“Remembralls don’t break, they're designed for clumsy people,” Draco explains, “see, if I throw it at the castle, it won’t shatter.” He winds his arm back, taking aim and throwing the ball as hard as he can. Harry watches it pass him, and then chases after it.

Unfortunately, Draco misjudges the wind, and the ball sails straight for a window in the castle wall. 

Fortunately, Harry manages to snag it out of the air before it can shatter the glass.

Unfortunately, the window the ball was sailing towards was where Professor McGonagall resides and she came out to take Harry in for his reckless flying. 

When they all went back inside the castle after class, Draco guiltily tries to find Harry, eventually catching up to him in a castle corridor after meeting up with the rest of the golden trio. 

“I’m sorry I got you in trouble,” he offers.

“Did you get detention?” Hermione demands, eyebrows furrowed in concern from Draco’s left.

“Professor McGonagall actually gave me a spot on the quidditch team!” Harry grins widely, and Ron comes over to crush him in a hug.

“That’s really impressive Harry,” Draco says, coming over to Harry’s other side to give him a quick hug as well.

“That’s against the rules,” Hermione says.

“He didn’t want to argue with a professor though,” Draco shoots back, effectively trapping Hermione between two morals and halting her argument. Ron drags her over into the hug as well, so all three of them are crowding around Harry and congratulating him. Their a few minutes late to their next class, but McGonagall only gives a light scolding and a warm smile as they come in as a unit. 

——

“Severus!” Draco hisses as he closes the Slytherin’s head of house door.

“Yes?” Severus replies, not even turning away from his papers. 

“Stop being mean to Harry, it is unbecoming.” Draco sits down on one of the chairs and lifts his chin.

Severus turns slightly in his direction and raises an eyebrow, “his level of foolishness is unbecoming,” he retorts before turning back around.

“He’s just learning,” Draco huffs a sigh, “and you’re the adult! You said the adults are meant to be smarter.”

“I said that when you asked why I knew how to brew Felix Felicitus. When you were five,” Severus explains, still refusing to properly acknowledge Draco’s presence.

“You still said it though,” Draco retorts, “why are you so mean to him in the first place?”

Severus finally turns around completely, facing Draco fully. “I am not being mean,” he explains, “I am teaching him, and he is falling behind.”

“He isn’t really, it’s been a week. Besides, he couldn’t do pre-reading like me and my friends because his relatives are awful!” Draco drops his chin, decorum forgot in his passion.

“He has you and Granger to assist him if needed,” Severus shoots back, before stopping and rethinking, “why are his relatives awful?”

Draco fiddles with his hands before straightening up and falling back into the easy grace he’s trying to display in school. “They’re muggles,” he explains, “and they refuse to let Harry do anything with magic. He has to study in his bed at night.”

“I see,” Severus replies, “I will ease Harry into potions perhaps, but only if he goes to an adult about his relatives.”

“Thank you!” Draco says getting up and hugging Severus briefly around the waist. 

“And,” Severus continues, “I believe you have a potions essay due tomorrow.” Draco’s face scrunches up but then he smooths it out.

“I have finished it,” Draco states, but then ducks out of the door, “I must go to my common room now,” he says almost sheepishly. Severus smiles wryly and starts marking other essays, looking forward to what Draco will scrape together before tomorrow.

——-

After Quirell’s declaration that a troll had been seen, all hell broke loose. Crabbe and Goyle, from their positions bracketing Draco in, stand as one and don’t let anyone close. Draco manages to lock eyes with Harry and Ron across the Great Hall through the chaos.

They wave at him, and Draco waves back as he is pushed towards the front of the pack where first years are so that the prefects can keep an eye on them. Severus stands near the back, rallying the older year levels so they can all move as a collective unit. 

Draco spies Harry and Ron run off and takes about two steps to go after them when he is harshly dragged back by Severus. 

“I thought you were over there,” Draco says innocently as his magic bond flares hot and bright.

“I thought you were meant to stay here,” Severus retorts, directing him back to Crabbe and Goyle who each grab one of his hands. “Stay here, or I will magic you here,” he threatens. 

Draco considers arguing with him but Harry and Ron are already gone. Later he will learn that they faced down the troll by themselves and Draco will fuss over them like Nagini with a litter. He’ll insult them while dragging them to sit down and tell him everything. Even though he wasn’t there, he’ll demand the story so many time he could recite it like it was his own. 

——-

“Hello?” Harry asks. Crabbe and Goyle had cornered the Golden Trio in an unused corridor and then stopped and stared at them. Harry talking seems to shock Crabbe into moving, as he then circles the group. 

“You’re friends with Draco,” Goyle point out as Crabbe finishes his circling and nods.

“Yeah,” Ron replies, “it’s why we let him hang out with us.”

“Do you know defensive spells?” Crabbe asks.

“We know the ones we’ve been taught,” Harry offers, cutting off Hermione’s list. 

“We’ll have to teach you,” Goyle nods to himself, getting his wand. The trio draw their wands on instinct, used to Slytherins subtly (or not so subtly) hexing them in the halls.

“Why?” Hermione asks, cautious but intrigued by the prospect of learning, “how many do you know?”

“Our fathers taught us a few, we have to keep watch on Draco,” Goyle explains, “but you don’t have to know as many, you’re just his friends.”

“You’re not his friends?” Ron asks, “but you’re around him all the time! Does he pay you?”

“No,” Crabbe says, at the same time Goyles proudly states “We’re bodyguards!” The two look at each other for a second, silently passing thought between them until they seem to come to a decision.

“We are friends, but also bodyguards,” Crabbe amends, “pay attention in Defence and you could be bodyguards too.”

“We’re okay with just being friends,” Harry says, “wouldn’t want to undermine your bodyguarding business.” Harry has learnt that Slytherins live by a completely different set of social rules, and more often than not the best way to deal with them is just to agree and flatter them until they go away. 

It seems to work, as Crabbe and Goyle nod and leaves, seeming to have forgotten about their promise to teach them. Hermione looks vaguely heartbroken but Harry and Ron lead her away to the Gryffindor common room to distract her. 

A few hours when they see Draco flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, they also see the fact that their wands are out the whole time.

——

Draco, Ron, Harry and Hermione are all stuck under the invisibility cloak. They sneak down through the castle hallways, and then out into the gardens. The whole time they are quietly bumping into each other and stepping on toes, the cloak not quite large enough for all four of them. Especially since Severus has been slowly feeding Harry nutrition potions. 

Once they navigated their way to Hagrid’s hut they shed the cloak and knock on the door.

“What if he’s not awake?” Harry asks, but Hagrid opens the door not a second later.

“What are you doing here?” He asks while letting them into his cottage, “You’ll get into a lot of trouble.”

“We wanted to see your egg,” Harry explains as the kids settle into places around the room. Hagrid frowns at them, absently offering rock cakes. 

“It’s not an egg anymore,” Hagrid explains and gestures at the bundle in the middle of the coffee table. Draco, who had been sitting in one of the chairs daintily leans forwards and squeaks.

“A dragon!” He exclaims and Hagrid shushes him.

“You live in a wooden hut,” Hermione points out and Hagrid frowns.

“Yes,” he says, “but he doesn’t have a home.”

“Or parents,” Draco points out softly, and Harry comes over to inspect the dragon as well. 

“My brother works with dragons,” Ron points out, “he works at a dragon facility. We could send him there.”

“Norbert,” Hagrid corrects.

“We could send Norbert there,” Ron amends, “he’ll love it!”

“And your hut won’t get burnt down,” Draco points out, voice pitching into that snotty tone he got when he was particularly nervous. Ron reaches over to pat his arm in an absent motion of comfort. 

“I suppose that would be best,” Hagrid mutters, scratching Norbert under the chin. The dragon shoots a bit of fire on reflex and the kids rush to their feet in surprise, all dashing around to put it out before Hagrid simply places a rug over it and waits for the fire to lose oxygen.

“That was exciting,” Draco says, “but I fear it is time for us to depart, I hope you and Norbert have a lovely evening!” He gently starts steering them all towards the door.

“I’ll write to Charlie!” Ron adds before Harry throws the cloak back over the four of them and they rush off into the night. On the way back they walk past Professor Snape, and all four hold their breath as he walks past.

Draco can feel Severus’ magic react with the bond still present in Draco’s magic, the tug of the two being together much more noticeable because of the rules of Hogwarts, but Severus’ step doesn’t falter and he keeps walking. They make it back to the meeting point in quiet, where Draco whispers his goodbye’s and sneaks back into the Slytherin common room.

He thinks he got away with it until a letter arrives for him the next morning.

‘Draco,’ it says, ‘please inform me of further late-night trips. Regards, Severus Snape.’

When Draco manages to lift his gaze and meet Severus’ eyes the professor is smirking at him.

——-

“Then Harry cast expelliarmus and Quirrell lost his wand. He was yelling at him when Severus came with Dumbledore and McGonagall and they brought him down. Harry told me that Quirrell was trying to get the philosopher’s stone for his Lord, which just goes to show how nutty he was,” Draco rambles, explaining to Marvolo what exactly happened just before holidays and why he found himself trying to get through traps designed for much more competent adults. 

Marvolo, however, felt the tiniest amount of guilt. Yes, Quirrell was not one of his close followers anymore, he had followed Voldemort’s descent into madness but he did not have the magic to bring himself out of it again.

Never mind that most of the magic connecting his soul together was from Draco, although Marvolo had spent hours sitting along and attempting to strengthen them.

Draco was still prattling on, hands moving as he explains Harry’s night at Madame Pomfrey, and the injustice he faced because Severus would not let him see his friend. Draco’s guardians had all hoped that his obsession with the youngest (and only) Potter would run its course and they would hardly cross paths, but it seemed at if they were quick friends. Marvolo knew that when the truth of their parents was revealed it would be explosive, and he didn’t want Draco to have to deal with that. 

However, Draco was currently ecstatic to have friends he could share similarities with, although Ron and Draco still found it hard to find topics of conversation when no one else could buffer between them.

“Are you listening?” Draco asks, nose high. Marvolo feels warmed at the sight, Draco has so many of the elder Malfoy’s mannerisms, as well as Severus’ signature drawl and Marvolo’s piercing stare. (That was still a work in progress, it was not very effective on a 12-year-olds face.)

“Yes, I am very entertained with your story,” he explains, “I was allowing you to continue speaking.”

Draco levels a flat stare at him, disbelieving. “That is why you were so deep in thought?”

“Have you told Nott of this story yet?” Marvolo asks, “you should write to him while I speak with Severus.” Draco folds his arms, unimpressed with Marvolo’s obvious inattention.

“I shall tell my story to a more appreciative audience,” he declares, hopping out of his chair and flouncing out of the room. 

“I wonder why he felt the need to find the stone?” Marvolo asks, gesturing at the door Draco left from. 

“At least he was not hurt,” Severus says, “we must be grateful for that.” Marvolo nods and then gestures for Severus to give him a full debrief on Draco’s first year. Classes, friends, grades, anything of importance. 

Together they discuss ways to handle the inevitable blowup of the Malfoy-Potter friendship, and ways for Marvolo to be more involved in Draco’s life while he is at school.

Draco, meanwhile, forgoes writing to Theo and instead writes to Harry, inquiring into how his life is now that they aren’t in Hogwarts anymore. He doesn’t stop writing until the letter is at least three pages long, and even then he could probably fill a whole book with what he wants to tell Harry. He sends it off with one of the manor owls and sits by the owlery waiting for a reply until dinnertime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That took ages to get out, but I'm pretty happy with it. I kept forgetting important parts of first year and then having to write them in. I've probably forgot a few key moments but you know, we're just vibing. I had to search up so many specifics, including names because I can't spell fictional character's names apparently. Please let me know of any problems if you spot them. 
> 
> I probably won't do anymore years for a while, or post bits and pieces of them. It will go back to shorter one-shots for a while!
> 
> As always, I own very little, and have a lovely day!


	7. five years - magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> accidental magic is usually born from significant emotion

“I’m sorry,” Draco says, frantically running into the affectionately dubbed ‘throne room’ to hide behind Voldemort’s throne. 

“What is wrong?” Voldemort asks, twisting around and casting diagnostic charms. Nothing seems out of the ordinary until Nagini comes in hissing. Voldemort flicks his eyes over to her and just stops himself from doing a double-take. 

Nagini is covered in colour. Her previously dark scales are splotched with bright blues, greens, pinks and yellows. The pattern constantly shifts, ensuring she is the brightest object regardless of where she is. She’s hissing, irritated about everything, but especially about the sudden brightness of her scales. 

“I didn’t mean to, she scared me,” Draco explains, still hiding behind Voldemort and not letting Nagini come close. 

“I see,” he says, unrolling a sleeve and pressing his finger into the mark there. A second later Severus appears in a crack of apparition, reflexively bowing before he realises he is the only one there. 

Then he sees Nagini.

“Draco,” he calls, striding forward and picking him up, “you have done magic!” Voldemort too stands and comes to rest a step in front of Severus.

“Well done, this is very impressive,” he tells Draco, “I have not seen accidental magic so complex.” Then again, Voldemort had rarely seen accidental magic outside of Hogwarts. 

“Is Nagini okay?” Draco asks, and his guardians flick their eyes over. Voldemort waves his wand, hissing a spell under his breath and Nagini returns to her normal hue. 

‘The snakeling is lucky I enjoy his company,’ Nagini hisses as she inspects her scales, ‘he changed my lovely patterns.’

‘He is very sorry,’ Voldemort hisses back, and then he turns to Draco to speak in English, “Nagini is fine, she congratulates you on your impressive skills.”

He ignores Nagini’s agitated hissing from behind him and instead listens as Draco explains how exactly he managed to magic Nagini coloured.

“Then she jumped out of the bush again and I wished I could see her all the time and she couldn’t hide!” Draco wiggles a bit and Severus lets him down. Draco pads over to Nagini on the floor and hugs her head. “Sorry,” he singsongs to her, in a surprisingly accurate replica of Bellatrix.

Nagini hisses at him but lets Draco pat her head until Voldemort gently redirects his attention so Nagini can slither away. It is safe to say that Nagini thinks twice before deciding to frighten Draco from then on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to baby chapters again, probably for a while. I can't believe that I couldn't find the average age of first accidental magic, so if it seems early it's just because he's gifted. As always, thank you for reading and I hoped you enjoyed!


	8. seven years - meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco doesn't understand Death Eater meetings, but he tries.

Draco is playing happily with his friends. Playing being setting a fake meeting up while Vincent and Gregory watch awkwardly. The first few times they had played together the two larger boys had accidentally bumped into Draco too hard or stepped on him, and now Draco bosses them around in revenge. 

Voldemort had taken advantage of both of these facts and had strongly suggested (not tortured, not forced) to the parents that their children should be trained in offensive and defensive spells. The parents had rightly inferred that their children were to become guards to Draco once he was old enough to leave Malfoy Manor without suspicion. 

Draco had only been out a few times and was only allowed to remain with Severus. At Hogwarts that wouldn’t be allowed, so Draco had to learn how to manage himself. (Voldemort also had to learn how to manage not having the certainty that Draco was with someone he trusted.)

Draco sat at the head of his table, motioning for Crabbe and Goyle to sit beside him. He snaps his fingers, annoyed when his finger hits his palm without producing sound and instead calls out ‘Dobby!’

The elf appears with a crack, wobbling over to Draco at the head of the table. “What would little master like?” Dobby asks, “tea and biscuits?”

“Tea and biscuits,” Draco affirms, “as well as sandwiches.” Now, Draco is not sure what Voldemort eats at his meetings, but whenever Severus had guests they would have tea with sandwiches, and biscuits for dessert. He imagines that was what happened at Death Eater meetings too, a collection of his odd family catching up and drinking tea.

Dobby disappears and reappears with them, trays of sandwiches (nothing with cucumber, Draco had hit a phase where he refused it), an elegant teapot (fortified for child's hands) and a plate of biscuits (three each, Severus had strict instructions for how much sweets Draco was allowed to order for himself.)

When they were set on the table, Draco waved his arm in invitation and his two friends dug in. 

“Today,” Draco declares as he pours his tea, “in this meeting, we shall discuss which fruit is the best.” He sits back in his chair, cradling the cup in his hands, “I’ll go first. Apples are obviously superior.”

“I like strawberries,” Goyle pipes up, “they’re sweet.”

“Acceptable,” Draco allows, “Crabbe? Do you have a favourite?”

Crabbe swallows the biscuit in his mouth and reaches for another, “my mum brought dragonfruit for me to try. It tasted like a pear.”

“Does it have wings?” Goyle asks.

“No, it’s shaped like an egg.” Crabbe attempts to demonstrate using his hands, “it’s red with spikes.”

“Very aptly named then,” Draco says, “I’ll list them in order.” He takes his quill and parchment, gently noting down a list. “First, apples, then strawberries and dragonfruit. Agreed?”

Crabbe and Goyle nod, reaching for the sandwiches now that the biscuit plate is refusing to let them have any more. Draco grins, signing the bottom of his parchment.

“This meeting is adjourned then, thank you for coming.”

“It’s no problem, Draco,” Goyle says, “you always have the best meetings.”

“And the best sandwiches,” Crabbe adds in. Draco thanks them gracefully, tucking his parchment away as part of his meeting notes. They continue to snack, discussing what the next meeting shall be about. They manage to decide on what sandwich fillings are the best, and Draco adds it to the calendar as very important. 

Severus is amused when he spots it a few hours later, charming a bell to ring when the date approaches. Very important appointments need reminders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are a few things I've mentioned in first year that I wanted to explore more. This was meant to be how Crabbe and Goyle became bodyguards but it escaped from me. I hope you enjoyed, and have a great day!


	9. second year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trying to figure out if the heir is in Slytherin is a lot easier when you ask.

When Harry sees Professor Snape he feels relief. This is a surprise because usually Harry is filled with fear. Then Draco follows Severus into the store and Harry can blame him for the relief. 

He steps cautiously out of the wardrobe, startling Draco who takes a step back and almost hits the shelf behind him.

“Harry?” He asks, “what are you doing in the cupboard?”

“I live there,” Harry murmurs back, gently closing the door. He notices Draco’s puzzled expression and corrects himself, “I tried to use the floo to get to Diagon Alley, but I landed here.”

“You have to speak clearly,” Draco admonishes, “don’t worry, it’s very close. Severus and I are headed over there after this.” He shepherds Harry to the register where Severus is purchasing something, probably something evil.

Severus simply flicks an eye over the two and then waves a quick cleaning charm over Harry. “Please try and be presentable,” he drawls. Harry dusts himself off with his hands just because he can, and lets himself get lead back to Diagon Alley by Severus and Draco. 

Draco, who was busy showing Harry a journal he had found in the Malfoy library, barely noticed when they caught up with the Weasley’s and Hermione outside of the bookstore. Harry ran off to say hello, and that’s when Severus plucked the journal out of Draco’s hands and hid it in his robes.

“Please do not take things from the library without asking,” Severus drawls, one hand floating down to pat Draco’s shoulder, “unless you are certain of its intention.”

Draco can see Ron out of the corner of his eye bringing his hand up to mock Severus’ lecture. He stifles a laugh, as do Harry and Hermione who join in when Professor Snape isn’t looking. 

“I apologise,” Draco replies, taking a second to make sure Severus accepts it before following his friends into the book store. Perhaps they would have a replacement? Marvolo had given him some knuts to spend on himself if he wanted to.

However, stepping into the book store Draco is assaulted by pictures of a blonde man framed by purple. His eyes at first don’t even recognise the terribly clashing colours and when they come into focus Draco has to close his eyes just to recenter himself. 

Then he hears a terribly grating voice and cracks his eyes open to see Harry be dragged into a circle of reporters. He walks over to Ron and Hermione, who are inspecting the man holding Harry hostage.

“Why is he manhandling Harry like that?” Draco asks, leaning over slightly.

“They’re both famous apparently,” Ron explains, “that man wrote a bunch of books or something.”

“They’re our school books!” Hermione crows in delight, “Gilderoy Lockhart wrote them.”

Draco plucks one from the pile and flicks through it. “If he truly did all of this he would be a very powerful wizard,” Draco admits, “although I do believe Harry is going to murder him with his eyes.” He watches as Harry struggles out of Lockhart’s grip. 

He hurries away to the safety of his friends, Lockhart being sufficiently distracted by a few reporters milling around and demanding photos. While Mr and Mrs Weasley are distracted by Ginny ordering her supplies for the first time, Fred and George come over to bracket Draco much like Crabbe and Goyle would.

“Heard you dropped this,” Fred says, handing Draco a slim black book.

“Thank you,” Draco says, ever gracious, before realising this is the journal Severus confiscated and gasping in surprise, “how did you get this back?”

“Now, now,” Fred starts.

“A good magician never reveals their secrets,” George finishes. Draco gives them a shy smile, before gently handing the journal back.

“Could you take care of it for me?” He asks, “I wouldn’t be able to hide it from Severus until school starts.” Voldemort might help him sneak it past the Professor, but Draco isn’t counting on it.

“Oh,” George says, grabbing it, “we sure can!” He glances at Fred who also nods but cocks his head to the side in thought.

“What’s in it for us?” He asks.

“You need prank ideas, yes? When you write in the journal, it writes back. I’m sure there’s a market for similar products.” Draco opens a page and taps on the blankness of it as if to demonstrate.

“Interesting, interesting,” George nods.

“We accept your deal!” Fred sticks out his hand and Draco shakes it admirably. The twins scuttle off and Draco rejoins his friends.

Together they escape the bookstore, and Draco ends up spending most of his knuts on the Weasley’s (secretly, of course, he doesn’t need to look like he cares.) He does buy a bag of flavoured beans and finds great joy when Voldemort eats a red one that tastes like boots.

——-

Draco isn’t really nervous when Harry and Ron don’t join him in the train carriage. Hermione doesn’t either, his train carriage is full of his Slytherin friends. He catches up with Pansy and Blaise, Theo is content sitting in the corner reading his book and commenting when he feels like it. 

When he doesn’t see Harry and Ron in the great hall, he’s still not worried. He waves at Hermione who waves back and assumed the boys have just taken their time getting in. Then the feast starts and they’re still not back. Draco sweeps his eyes over everything twice, trying to find them but he can’t.

“Vince, Greg,” Draco says, eyes still wandering around the hall, “can you see Harry and Ron?” The two turns their heads critically, for all they lack in brains they make up for in physical areas, such as bulk, and Draco knows their fathers have trained them in spotting enemies. Usually, they use that particular skill to find food in a hall, but it is useful in situations like this.

They two boys shake their heads, and Draco worries. It’s not like them to miss food. Although he learns later that they are late because they crashed a flying car into a tree. He first learns this particular fact through the red letter that screams across the great hall, and he feels bad for finding it funny.

It distracts from the fact that the twins don’t return his journal to him.

——

Draco’s first Defence lesson goes terribly. Lockhart is an incompetent teacher and a coward. He finds some release in ranting to Severus, explaining how the fool let a cage full of pixies free in the classroom. 

“You are fine though?” Snape asks, taking a sip of his tea.

“Oh yes, Crabbe and Goyle practically dragged me out of the room,” Draco replies, “though I don’t know what Professor Lockhart was thinking. Honestly, Marvolo would be a better Defence teacher.”

Severus snorts a tad into his tea, but regains composure quickly, “did you mention that to him?”

“I already wrote him a letter, I said that even though his classes would just be full of weird spells it would be better than that lunatic.” Draco steals a biscuit from the plate in front of him, missing Severus’ ungraceful startled coughing. 

“I’m sure Marvolo will find joy in that,” he says once recovered. Draco only raises his brow at Severus’ odd reaction to his silly hypothetical, but Severus dismisses him to bed before Draco can ask.

——

“Congratulations!” Harry calls as the Slytherin team parts to reveal Draco, “I’m glad you got seeker.”

“Thank you,” Draco returns, “I’m sure you will be…worthy competition.” To anyone else, the pause would seem insulting, but Harry knows Draco struggles to sound nice while also sounding proper. 

“I’m looking forward to a match!” Harry replies, the two youngest seekers ignoring the arguing going on by the captains, “are we allowed to practice together?”

“I don’t believe so,” Draco turns to his captain before realising that Flint is occupied, “but I’ll see you on the court.” The seekers shake on it and return to try and diffuse the tensions between the teams. It doesn’t work and Ron somehow ends up hexing himself in the scuffle. 

Oh well, at least it’s only slugs.

——

Finding Norris petrified is kind of terrifying. When Draco gets there, Harry, Hermione and Ron have already moved to the front of the gathering. Filch is yelling at everyone, mourning while Dumbledore attempts to gather everyone’s attention.

Draco looks up to the wall, the bloody letter proclaiming an heir, a chamber being opened, it doesn’t make any sense. He can feel a few people looking at him, either in curiosity or fear. Even Professor Snape takes him aside once everyone is sent back to their common rooms.

“I need you to be honest, did you do this?” Severus asks, and Draco denies it vehemently. 

“I don’t even know what it means,” Draco assures, then he freezes and looks up at Severus in fear, “that was blood, is someone dead?”

“Not yet,” Severus assures, “but from now on you stay with Crabbe and Goyle at all times.” Draco agrees, letting Severus escort him personally back to the common room. 

——

“Harry, I feel so bad,” Draco starts, only for Harry to cut him off with a wave of his hand. The hand with bones, that is, the other one is lying limp at his side.

“Oh don’t worry about it! You flew really well,” Harry returns.

“You almost caught the snitch,” Ron nudges Draco in the side, who scowls at him.

“How long did Madame Pomfrey say you had to stay?” Hermione asks, shooting a glare at the boys before they can get into a fight in the hospital wing. 

“Overnight, but that’s okay,” Harry grins, “I’ve stayed at worse.”

“That’s not funny mate,” Ron says, coming to pat Harry’s shoulder, “but we’re glad you’re okay.”

“I’ll get an investigation into it,” Draco stand up firmly, “whoever did this will face consequences.” 

Harry just smiles at him, “sure, Draco. Just don’t put them in Azkaban okay?”

“Maybe I will!” Draco shoots back, and they continue their little back and forth until Madame Pomfrey kicks them all out at the end of visiting hours.

——

Draco wasn’t sure if Severus was trying to be nice by letting him duel Harry, but either way, it was fun. They both threw each other a few harmless pranks spells, Draco passing him a tickling charm and Harry retaliating with a stinging hex. 

Then Draco sends out a snake. Just a little one, he doesn’t put much power behind it. Everyone seems awfully worried, even though snakes are usually fine if you leave them alone. Lockhart in his infinite wisdom decides that the best thing to do would be to aggravate the snake, and he sends it a long way into the air before letting it fall back to the ground.

The snake is understandably distressed, and the agitated hissing reminds Draco uncomfortably of Nagini. Harry just stands there watching the snake as it circles around and starts to slither towards a student. Then he opens his mouth and hisses. 

Everyone else gasps, but Draco knows what this is. Severus steps forward to banish the snake, startling Harry as his conversation companion suddenly disappeared. The student body erupts into a murmured conversation as Harry and Draco end the duel. Lockhart attempts to move on, but eventually, he is forced to admit defeat and Professor Snape banishes everyone to their common rooms. 

As Draco leaves, he hears multiple people comment on Harry being the heir and he finds great joy in bringing down each and every one of their arguments. He knows a parseltongue like Harry, so he knows that Harry wasn’t being nasty. His conversation sounded quite civil actually.

It’s a shame nobody else seems to understand that.

——

“It’s the heir of Slytherin,” Harry tells Draco, “the Chamber of Secrets is a Slytherin thing.”

“So?” Draco asks, “It doesn’t mean the heir is actually in Slytherin. It could be a teacher, we don’t know.”

“It could be Professor Snape,” Ron buts in and Draco simply lifts his brow.

“We did this last year, Professor Snape is also not the heir.”

“We just want to go in for a few minutes and ask some people,” Hermione soothes.

“You can ask people when they’re not in the common room,” Draco huffs a sigh, “I can’t just let you in, I could get in trouble.”

Harry cocks his head in confusion, “but Severus is your uncle.”

“Not from him, the other Slytherins will practically disown me for letting you in. Maybe if we were older or I had a slightly higher standing but right now I can’t. Sorry.” Draco looks at each of the trio, who back down.

“Can you ask around?” Hermione asks hopefully.

“I’ll ask, but Professor Snape already requested that the heir come forward. No-one has.”

“Thanks anyway,” Harry adds, and Draco nods at them.

“Now, are we going to study, or not?” He asks. Hermione grins while Harry and Ron groan, though a swift kick to them boys gets them working on their homework.

——

Draco does get his journal back eventually. Every now and again he asked the twins, but each time they said they had lost it and couldn’t find it. It seems that is the case, as Harry is the one who finds the journal and gives it back to Draco.

“Someone threw this book into Myrtle,” Harry explains, and Draco snatches it up.

“I gave this to your brothers,” Draco shoots a look at Ron, “before school, they said they lost it when I asked for it back.”

“It says Tom Marvolo Riddle,” Hermione says, pointing at the lettering on the spine.

“That’s my other guardian,” Draco explains, “it used to be his but I found it in the Manor library and decided to use it.”

“Did you ask?” Hermione questions, raising her eyebrows in concern. Draco wishes he hadn’t inadvertently taught her that.

“He wasn’t using it,” Draco defends, “he’s never been angry when I’ve taken books from the library before.” Draco thumbs through the pages and Ron leans over his shoulder.

“It’s empty,” he points out.

“You write in it, and it writes back,” Draco explains, “then the words go away.” Ron nods slowly, clearly sceptical. Draco huffs and stands, brushing his knees off. Then he stops and holds the journal out.

“What?” Harry asks, eyeing the journal with caution.

“Professor Snape doesn’t want me to have it, could you look after it for me?” 

“Um, sure?” Harry takes it and puts it between his own books, “I would have thought you wanted to keep it after Fred and George lost it.”

Draco shakes his head and crosses his arms tight across his chest, “Slytherin as a whole is being a little sneaky at the moment, besides, I trust you more than the twins.”

“Aww,” Ron teases, “you trust us.” Turns out, Draco should not have trusted them because not two days later the journal is once again missing, this time stolen from out of Harry’s belongings. Draco spends two hours worrying.

——

Snape can say, in his whole entire life he has never been this scared, neither has he ever been this angry. 

Draco is petrified. 

He and Granger were found outside of the library, huddled together with a mirror between them. They both look terrified, seeming to have known what was coming before it got to them. Severus even felt the bright flare in his magic, muted because Draco is almost completely independent, but still shocking. 

The first thing Severus does after visiting Draco in the hospital wing is to go to his house, gather them together and break the news.

He details that one of their own is injured, one of their own, with pureblood, has been harmed. He states in no uncertain terms that if anyone in his house has had something to do with it, they need to come forward because this has progressed far past what is acceptable. The youngest students seem terrified, but some of his oldest students and ones he is more fond of make an attempt to comfort him.

He brushes them off, instead flooing straight to Malfoy Manor. He stalks past the rooms, and opens the meeting room, bowing low as soon as he steps in.

Voldemort immediately dismisses the meeting in progress, knowing that Severus would have a good reason to barge into a meeting during school hours. The death eaters leave, Severus cannot bring himself to pay attention as they leave, only waiting until he is allowed out of his bow.

He wastes no time. “Draco has been attacked.”

“I see,” Voldemort says, rising from his seat. He is controlled, anyone looking in would not see the exact impact the words have on him, but inside he is furious. He takes a few steps forward, “How exactly?”

“He’s been found petrified, we suspect it is the monster from the Chamber of Secrets,” Snape explains, “we haven’t found a culprit.”

“Can you get me into Hogwarts?” Voldemort asks, “is there a threat from Dumbledore?”

Severus shakes his head, “I doubt you could get in undetected, not long enough for anything meaningful.”

“Would you recommend anyone I could use?”

“Well,” Severus flicks through students and teachers in his mind, allies, enemies, then an idea strikes him, “has Draco informed you of the Defence teacher?”

So a plan is born, Voldemort enters Severus’ study via floo for only a few seconds. Long enough to perform both legilemency and imperio on the unsuspecting Defence teacher, before taking his leave. The combination allows Voldemort to control Lockhart effectively, even though he himself is in Malfoy Manor.

“I do not like this body,” Lockhart-Voldemort says, “his mind is quite a mess.”

“Only until we can go into the Chamber,” Severus assures, letting Voldemort lead him to the unused bathroom. He hisses at a sink, which promptly opens the Chamber up. Severus is thankful strict measures have been put in place because if anyone had seen them he is not sure that the Dark Lord could convincingly pull of Lockhart’s particular brand of stupid.

They descend into the darkness, Severus being led swiftly into the main chamber. He casts a quick spell over both of their eyes so that if worst comes to worst, they are only petrified and their bodies can be retrieved at a later date.

Near the centre area, just a little out of sight is a student. Her shock of red hair and short stature is surprising for Severus until she turns and her eyes appear as glassy and unfocused as Lockhart’s. Abruptly she drops like a stone, and instead a flickering form of a younger Tom Riddle comes into focus.

It’s weak, but it makes a few steps forward. “Professors,” he nods to each of them, “I am surprised you made your way in, how?”

Severus gestures at Lockhart, who grins, exposing his canines unnaturally. ‘I am aware of what you are,’ he hisses, ‘you were part of me once.’

‘I see,’ the apparition hisses back.

‘Allow me to take my diary back, there are plans in place already and I will allow you to reconnect with me.’ Tom takes a second to think, but eventually nods and flickers out of existence. Severus quickly steps over to the youngest Weasley while Voldemort picks his diary from the floor. He takes a second to speak to the Basilisk, ordering it back into her hole and sealing it as he did all those years ago. Any fondness he had for her is dampened by the harm she’s caused his child.

The two professors drop Ginny at the hospital wing, taking the time Pomfrey takes to fuss over her to let Voldemort visit Draco. They don’t risk touching him, petrified bodies are held in delicate stasis, but they keep watch until Pomfrey shoos them both out.

“Do you know if Lockhart is scared of spiders?” Lockhart-Voldemort asks grinning, “I believe he has outrun his usefulness.”

The last act Voldemort does in the Defence teachers body is to walk him into the forbidden forest, headed straight for where he assumes the acromantula nest is. Safe to say, Lockhart does not return to Hogwarts.

——

Even though the threat is gone, it doesn’t make the cure for the petrified students suddenly available. So, while everyone waits for the mandrakes to mature, Severus spends any spare minute by Draco’s side. He grades his papers there, he will sometimes take his meals there. His students have learnt to go to the hospital wing if they need him. 

He spends as long as possible keeping watch, ensuring Draco is comfortable and safe, even though he is petrified and has no idea what is going on around him. When he is kicked out by Pomfrey each night he carefully takes his memory and sends it to the Dark Lord, a reassurance that Draco is still as well as he can be.

When the mandrake is ready, Severus locks himself in the potions lab to make the cure. As soon as it is ready he gives it Pomfrey, and he stands over her shoulder while it’s administered to the students. 

He notices when it starts to take effect, the students prickling and jerking before a breath stutters out. As most were petrified in fear, that’s their first reactions. Draco springs up in the bed, backpedalling before he realises that the Basilisk is not in front of him. His eyes take a second to fully refocus, and then he notices Severus and practically leaps into his arms.

Draco hasn’t felt so small since he had his last nightmare at 8 years old, and he just wants to be held. His eyes water and the tears start to fall. Severus simply runs a hand up and down his back, trying to soothe him even if he couldn’t save him.

Eventually, Draco lets him go, and Hermione comes over to coax him out to see Harry and Ron. He agrees but asks if Severus can join him.

“I’m still rattled too,” Hermione admits, “I think I’m going to write to my parents very soon.”

Severus keeps careful watch over the two until they find their friends, where they hug each other and reunite. For the rest of the year, Draco stays with someone all the time, usually Crabbe and Goyle. If he’s in a pair he’ll seek out another, and he even requests to floo home with Severus rather than take the train.

It takes weeks before the nightmares leave him, and Draco is even nervous around Nagini. It’s heartbreaking both for Voldemort and Severus, but at least Draco learns not to take random books out of the library anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look who lies and says their not going to do a massive oneshot of a year for a while. The biggest problem here was trying to figure out how Voldemort was going to be the bad guy when I made him not that bad. Solution: angry dad!Voldemort. I had to watch the movie again because fanfiction has distorted what I think happened in Harry Potter. I did take some inspiration from the Narcissa Militant series (using Lockhart to get into the chamber) and it's an awesome series if you haven't read it!
> 
> Thank you to everyone who comments, kudos, bookmarks or even if you just read it. This fic, which was a bizarre dream come to life, has gotten a lot more attention than I thought. You guys are all amazing!
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed, and have a nice day! (and if you have suggestions for child!Draco drabbles, let me know! I'll try and get around to them.)


	10. interlude - snape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How does Snape explain this to his colleagues?

Professor Snape was startled by McGonagall coming up next to him at a dinner. Although, he shouldn’t be considering they were both Professors and had been working together for a few years now. Then again, being a student of McGonagall was an experience that stayed with you forever.

“Severus,” she greeted, “how are you this evening?”

“I am well,” he says, placing his letters in front of him in order to turn his full attention to his old professor.

McGonagall’s eyes flicker to the stack of letters, shuffled gently by Severus, and she manages to catch the slightly out of place handwriting. “Is a student sending you letters?” She asks, looking over the letter.

“No,” Snape replies, replying honestly on instinct, “this is from my….ward.” Severus picks up the letter and places it on the top of the pile.

“You have a child?” McGonagall asks, gathering both Professor Sprout’s and Professor Flitwick’s attention. 

“A baby Snape,” Sprout says in delight, “who is the mother?”

“He’s the Malfoy’s,” Snape explains, watching as his coworker’s faces fall into sympathy.

McGonagall reaches an arm out to squeeze his shoulder. “You care for him alone?”

“I do,” Severus can’t admit that he is helped by the Dark Lord himself, “he is not as annoying as some of my students.”

“He would be seven now, yes? Give him time,” Flitwick says, “once they hit school age they will become as annoying as any other child.”

Severus raises an eyebrow at him, “Draco is the smartest and most well behaved seven year old, he is not an ignorant student.”

“Yet!” Sprout crows, “Your kid will be questioning your decisions soon enough.” Snape cats a disbelieving glance in her direction and she laughs.

“Who do you leave him with when you teach?” McGonagall asks, “he’s not in the castle is he?”

“His Aunt looks after him,” Severus admits, “although we write to each other often and I return home most weekends.”

“That’s why you’re never available for meetings,” McGonagall teases, “we thought you were avoiding us.”

Snape turns back to his letters, a retort held on his tongue. The teachers seem to hear it nonetheless and laugh with him. McGonagall turns in a swish of robes and sits down back at her seat. Snape opens Draco’s letter and feels Dumbledore’s stare. He doesn’t meet his gaze but instead immerses himself into the letter.

After the students are dismissed, Snape retires to his study and writes a reply. Or he attempts to, but Dumbledore intercepts him in the halls.

“It must be hard for you,” Dumbledore starts, “to raise a child on your own.” There is a knowing twinkle in his eye and for a second Snape is worried that the Headmaster knows Voldemort is currently child-rearing. But then Dumbledore continues with, “if you need any assistance I’m certain anyone on staff can help you.”

Severus nods swiftly, watching as Dumbledore twirls and glides away. Some students look at him strangely but Snape just glares until they look away. He quickly makes his escape, breathing a soft sigh of relief when he’s finally alone.

He carefully strips the letter of its enchantments, watching the words change from a letter worth little to Draco actually expressing his thoughts. Severus sits in his chair and reads through Draco’s various adventures and a quick note at the bottom from Voldemort detailing anything important that Draco himself refused to list. 

If he were a lesser wizard he would smile while writing his reply, but Severus is above such things. He settles for a warm feeling filling him as he reads over Draco’s various adventures.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all, I did a bunch of research for this tiny drabble. I don't have much else to say I am very tired. I hope you enjoyed, and have a great day!


	11. four years - sick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The guardians manage their first flu.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick TW for vomiting and descriptions of fever in kids, also Sev and Voldy worry that Draco is not going to survive but he does. This is not corona related, but if you feel uncomfortable with something like this I totally understand.

The first time Draco gets properly sick, it’s terrifying. He’s been sick before, little colds and sniffles he’s shaken off like any child, but when he picks up proper flu he goes down hard. 

It starts off small, Draco’s nose is running during dinner and Severus gently passes him a tissue. The toddler manages to clear his nose but two bites later he’s sneezing. Severus flicks him a look, questioning but also reprimanding. Draco wipes his nose again, but it’s noticeable he’s not well.

By the time he goes to bed he’s pale, paler than usual, and Severus gently places his hand on his forehead. 

“Are you well?” Severus asks gently, not particularly worried.

“I’m tired,” Draco says, his voice pitching into a whine. Severus lets him sleep in peace, casting a hasty charm around the bedroom before leaving. 

The morning isn’t any better, Draco doesn’t come out as fast as usual, both adults are up and working before Draco even leaves his room, and when he does it’s stumbling and not with his usual grace.

Voldemort finds Draco sitting in the middle of his playroom, Nagini supporting his back as he sits and plays gently with his fake wand, simply waving it back and forth in gentle swishing motions, every now and again picking up his toy peacock and swapping it with his toy snake like he’s doing transfiguration. Voldemort watches as Draco tips forward too far, Nagini’s tail coming around to steady him as Draco wipes his nose and continues his quiet play. It’s disconcerting. Draco is, for the most part, well behaved, but he’s usually much more energetic.

“Draco,” the Dark Lord calls, and the blond head turns sluggishly and he waves.

“Up please?” Draco asks, reaching his arms up. Voldemort complies, picking Draco up gently and sending Nagini to clear a path to the kitchens. Draco’s head lands on Voldemort’s shoulder, and he can clearly see Draco is not feeling well. 

“Have you had breakfast?” Voldemort asks, and the only response he gets is a soft shake of a head against his shoulder. Draco doesn’t even respond verbally.

When they get to the kitchen Draco is dozing, but Voldemort sits him up in a chair, wakes him gently, and instructs a house-elf to get him something soft. The elf returns with porridge, gently setting it down with a cup of honey.

“Master Draco must be eating now,” the elf urges, gently pouring some of the honey on top, “made sweet specially for you.”

Voldemort watches as Draco carefully spoons some into his mouth. He gets about halfway through before shaking his head and pushing it away.

“Finish,” Draco proclaims, getting up, “feel bad.” He takes a few steps and then slams a hand over his mouth.

“Draco,” is all Voldemort can get out before Draco is vomiting onto the floor. Tears start streaking down his cheeks as everything he ate just comes flooding back up. Thankfully the porridge is expelled quickly and Voldemort scoops Draco up as he starts crying hysterically, pale and hurt.

He calls for a house-elf to clean and juggles Draco as he presses his wand to the dark mark on his arm. Severus takes a second to apparate in, but when he does he immediately conjures a bucket and passes it to Voldemort.

“Has he eaten anything,” Severus asks quickly, casting a quick spell over Draco to sense any ill-magic.

“Just half of his breakfast, I don’t believe he was exposed to anything else.” He passes the bucket to Draco who grips it and coughs up some bile in between his sobs.

Severus comes up to Draco and places a hand on his forehead, once more casting a diagnosis spell, but this time one to do with sickness. It comes back a bright red.

“Take him to his room,” Severus instructs, “lay him down, I think he’s got a fever.” Together they hurry back to Draco’s room, gently laying him on top of the covers.

“I’m cold,” Draco protests, trying to worm his way under, giving up halfway to cough up some more spit into the bucket. Severus untucks him gently, spelling the blankets down so he can’t get under them.

“You’re too hot,” he explains gently, “you have to stay on top. Try and sleep if you can.” Draco only whines, scrubbing his face free of tears. Severus flicks a cleaning charm over him, trying to make him feel more comfortable.

After a few more minutes of struggling, and Severus gently feeding Draco a few drops of calming draught, Draco is asleep in his bed. The next few hours are Voldemort and Severus calming Draco when he wakes, placing cool cloths on his head, and hoping that he doesn’t stop breathing in his sleep.

Unfortunately, it gets worse before it gets better, and Severus ends up taking some time away from Hogwarts to visit St Mungos and grab some medicine. Draco doesn’t eat, can barely manage a few bites of toast before shaking his head and feeling sick. Severus takes to gently spelling water into Draco’s stomach to keep him hydrated while he sleeps.

Severus looks up the family book in hopes of finding an example of what to do in this situation but instead finds out that so far Draco is lucky. As a pureblood, there is a lot of inbreeding in his line, and many heirs fell gravely sick often as a result. Draco is in fact quite lucky that Lucius married a Black, rather than someone more related to him because otherwise, he would be sick much more often.

Eventually, Draco starts to feel better. His fever breaks, and he can spend a few hours awake before starting to feel sluggish. He still needs some potions from St Mungos to ensure he’s getting better, and he’s strangely dependent on Voldemort, wanting to be near him at all times because he knows Severus has to leave. Day by day he gets better, and Voldemort halts all Death Eater meetings until he does. He reroutes all issues to Bellatrix, which seems to result in a lot fewer issues than expected.

When Severus next returns home, the next weekend he’s available, Draco greets him happily. He seems much better, and at dinner, he takes his medicine with no complaint. Draco even finishes his dinner, and Severus lets him have more cookies for dessert as a reward.

By the next weekend, Draco has bounced back completely, but both guardians take every sneeze seriously for at least a year more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said, this is not Corona related, this is actually inspired from a fever I had after drinking too much pool water. I was in a different country and I could only have the liquid panadol so it was not fun. I hope you enjoyed a more hands on Voldemort, and have a great day!


	12. nine years - flying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is it good to get the one person who doesn't use a broom to teach flying? No. Is Voldemort going to do it anyway? Yes.

“I’m on,” Draco announces, seated securely on his broom, “you can let go.” Voldemort does so, gently releasing the front of the broom but staying close just in case. The broom doesn’t wobble, keeping its centre with Draco but allowing for natural human movement. It’s one of the highest quality brooms available, Voldemort had gifted it to him for his birthday.

“Now, you have to lean towards where you want to go,” Voldemort instructs, “feel it in your magic.”

“The instructions say that it’s easiest to start with gentle turns,” Draco says, releasing one hand from the broomstick to point towards the packaging, “it says that I might have to use verbal commands first, like spells.”

“I’ve never done that and I fly perfectly fine,” Voldemort dismisses, “just lean forward a little and the broom will follow.” Draco looks concerned but does as he’s told. He leans forward, and the broom takes a second to register the movement but does start moving forward at a steady pace. Draco giggles nervously, leaning forward as the broom speeds up.

“Can I turn?” Draco asks, gently leaning back until the broom stops.

Voldemort, who had been keeping steady pace by floating next to Draco, takes a step back, “not too hard, just lean a little to the left.” Draco nods, leaning slightly. The broom picks it up, turning him on the spot gently.

“Try larger turns,” Voldemort instructs. Draco does so, leaning forward a tad as he leans left. The broom follows dutifully, creating larger loops. Then Draco tries to make them bigger by leaning forward further.

This does not work, Draco only speeds up. At the sudden surge in speed, Draco reflexively clutches the broom tighter, leaning forward in the process.

Voldemort watches as Draco quickly gains speed, circling uncontrollably. Draco is clutching on for dear life but the speed becomes too much and he gets thrown off. Luckily the broom is still quite low to the ground, and luckily Draco hits Voldemort rather than the ground. 

The broom stills, coming to a soft-float in the middle of the distressed circle of grass. Draco clutches Voldemort’s robes to reassure himself, placing his Protector in between himself and the broom. 

“That was too fast,” Voldemort says, reaching out to grab the broom, “are you harmed?”

Draco shakes his head, “I told you we should have followed the instructions.” He releases the robe so he can brush himself down, and skitters out of the way as the broom comes forward. He dashes to the box and grabs out the parchment included, which has moving illustrations of how to best direct the broom.

Voldemort grabs the paper when it’s handed to him, giving the broom back to Draco. “Do you want to try again?” He asks. Draco looks at the broom in his hand, settled but still magically active and shakes his head.

“We can try again tomorrow,” he says, “when Severus comes over.” Voldemort feels a little peeved that Draco seems to trust Severus over him, but then again, Severus might use the instructions. (and probably teach Draco in the most passive-aggressive manner just to get back at Voldemort.)

Voldemort calls a house-elf to move the broom into Draco’s room and lets Draco drag him to play with the peacocks. The birds do not react well to Voldemort’s presence, but they recognise the threat of his magic and behave so Draco can play with them. The Dark Lord is not letting Draco get hurt twice in one day.

When Severus comes around and Draco begs him to help him fly. Severus does and uses the instructions. As Draco flies happily around the garden Severus shoots a smirk at Voldemort, who retaliates by letting Bellatrix annoy him as much as necessary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is something that was mentioned in first year that I never got around to actually writing. Well, here it is. As always, I hope you enjoyed, and have a great day.


	13. twelve years - nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being petrified is not a nice experience, it leaves wounds.

Severus is working quietly in his study. He knows he should be asleep, had known that an hour ago, but he only had a few papers to mark and decided he could do them quickly before he retires. Unfortunately, most of the papers were written by incompetent students and he is having to go over every single point they got wrong and correcting them. For six inches, there are a lot of mistakes. 

It’s almost fortunate, as partway through his last paper a house-elf flicks into his room. He’s about to dismiss it by force of habit, not needing any tea at the moment, but as he turns he recognises it as Dobby who’s one of the only Malfoy elves they still hold onto. 

“Master Snape sir,” he says, anxiously tugging at his ears, “Little Master Draco is screaming, sir.”

At first, Snape is confused, Draco is asleep how could he be screaming? But then it clicks, and Severus rushes out of his study.

“Alert Lord Voldemort,” Severus instructs, missing Dobby’s nervous fidgeting before he does so. If it is nothing, the Dark Lord has lost some sleep, but if Draco is in pain or has been harmed then Voldemort would need to know. 

Severus swishes into Draco’s bedroom, the child curled in the centre of his bed. The bed is too large for him, Draco always looks too small in it when he’s asleep. Draco has tears falling down his cheeks, his eyes screwed up tight even in sleep. Severus comes closer, hand hovering over Draco’s shoulder when the blond pitches into a scream. His eyes shoot open, glassy and unfocused. Then after his scream pitches off, he seems to focus on Severus. Not on his face, but rather on his chest, where many magical experts place the magical core. 

Draco stirs gradually, sitting up and choking on sobs, reaching out as Severus sits next to him on the bed. They curl up together into a hug, Draco’s cries subsiding, but he’s still shaking with adrenaline. 

Voldemort storms in, eyes ablaze and wand out. The bang of the bedroom door against the wall causes Draco to flinch, curling up tighter in Severus’ arms. Voldemort scans the room quickly, magic crackly off of him menacingly until he realises that there is no physical threat. He sweeps the room twice over with his eyes while walking forwards, and comes to settle just in front of the hugging pair.

“Are you okay?” Voldemort asks, although his eyes are on Severus.

“A night terror,” Severus explains.

“I was in the library with Granger. I could hear it,” Draco mutters, half an explanation, half an expression of fear. Voldemort curls an arm around Draco’s shoulders, trying to comfort him. 

“Do you need dreamless sleep?” He asks, “or a calming draught?”

Draco hastily wipes his eyes, “no, I’m okay,” he tries to reassure, “I don’t need any.”

“Okay,” Severus says, stroking through Draco’s hair, “do you want to sleep in my room then?”

“No,” Draco insists, “I’m not little, I can deal with this by myself.” Although he tries to appear strong his bottom lip quivers dangerously and he still looks shaken.

“Can Nagini keep watch over you?” Voldemort offers, “she will be very concerned.”

“Maybe,” Draco says, eyes cast down in thought.

“She’ll stay near the door,” Severus says calmly, “she won’t come into your bed if you don’t want her to.” 

Draco hesitantly agrees, and when Nagini slithers over he’s settled somewhat, both of the guardians making a show of warding his room against harm. Draco curls back up into the blankets, Severus settling down next to him and keeping watch until he falls back into rest. 

Voldemort has stalked away, half angry at himself but mostly furious at his younger soul piece resting in a diary in the library. He storms through the corridors and only stops when he comes across Severus making his way back to his study.

“Tomorrow you should give him dreamless sleep,” Voldemort commands. Severus turns to him slowly, bowing shallowly in the process.

“Draco is insisting on dealing with by himself, I fear dreamless sleep will only prolong his fear,” he suggests gently. 

“Then what do we do? A calming draught?” 

“I think we can only comfort him, I doubt any magical means will have a positive impact.” 

Voldemort flings a hex at the wall, a chunk cracking and breaking under the magic. Severus watches, apathetic but casting a subtle bubble of protection around himself. 

“Order the house elves to keep watch over him,” Voldemort demands, breathing hard, “I’ll tell Crabbe and Goyle to increase training.” He swirls away in a dramatic swish of robes, and Severus lets him go, making a return to his papers. 

He knows that by morning Draco will be fine, but Voldemort will still amp up safety until he physically can’t anymore. He’s just not sure if the measures will be protecting Draco, or suffocating him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long awaited (or at least, in my head) reference to the end of second year, and a hint at broader themes that'll i'll probably carry through for a few more one shots and then completely forget about. I hope you enjoyed, and have a great day!


	14. third year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A murderer? At Hogwarts? Again? Draco (well, Severus) is thinking of transferring.

“I won that game,” Blaise insists, gesturing to the stack of cards in front of him. Draco looks down and gestures across his own hand.

“My value is higher,” he says, “there’s no way you won!”

“But I had four of the same card.”

“It’s ones though,” Pansy points out, “I’ve got two pairs.”

“You have two sixes and two eights. I have a queen, and a king, and I have a merlin,” Draco huffs, “let’s ask Theo.”

“I don’t want to be part of this,” Theo protests, head buried in his book.

“Call it a draw?” Crabbe suggests and Pansy whips around to glare at him.

“No,” she insists, “that’s like admitting defeat. Which I am not going to do.” Draco scoffs, ready to debate against her some more when suddenly the windows frost over completely. The cards get blown into a heap and Blaise shouts in confusion.

Goyle reaches an arm out to scoop Draco closer, while Pansy flicks the lock on the carriage closed. They huddle in a corner of the carriage, Theo taking a second to flick all the lights off. The Slytherins stick together, forming a large pile of people trying to hide from the window. 

A dark figure passes them, pausing at the doors and turning, but moving on instead of coming in. Nonetheless, the Slytherins all hold their breath until the carriage starts to lighten, both literally and emotionally. The heavy press against their chests lifts, although they don’t dare move until the train workers come through and assure them everything is okay now. 

They don’t argue about who won anymore, mostly staying quiet until the train pulls into the station. Draco stays close to his group of friends. He overhears Neville mention Harry fainting and asks him about it at the feast.

“It’s nothing,” Harry dismisses, “the new professor helped me anyway. Doesn’t matter.” Ron rolls his eyes and fills Draco in, the blond passing over a spare treacle tart to try and make him feel better. He’s not sure it works, but it feels better than doing nothing. 

After the meal Severus pulls him away from his friends, double-checking him and making sure he’s fine.

“They didn’t even come in,” Draco protests, “just wandered around outside.”

“They can still cause frost-bite,” Severus replies angrily, checking over his hands, “they weren’t meant to be on the train.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Draco deflects, shaking his hands out of Severus’ grip.

“So you are perfectly fine?” Severus asks accusingly, “they didn’t drag up a memory or scare you?”

“Yes,” Draco says, “nothing like that.” Severus lets him go with a promise to stay with his friends. As Draco goes to sleep that night he debates telling Severus about the horrible break in his magic he felt when they passed by, the feeling of loss and fear that seemed to consume him.

He didn’t.

——

“Was your divination lesson as batty as ours?” Ron asks Draco as they meet up in the library.

“Why?” Draco asks, “what happened in yours?”

“Professor Trelawney predicted Harry’s death!” Ron exclaims, getting a sharp ‘shh’ from Madame Pince.

“It’s a silly subject,” Hermione buts in, making Ron jump. Draco knows the skill behind a successful silent approach and doesn’t mention her sudden appearance. (Theo perfected his version last year, he’s used to it.) “How would a dog in tea leaves accurately tell whether Harry will die or not?”

“It’s a bit weird, but Divination can be quite useful sometimes,” Draco protests, “like with prophecies and the foreknowledge of bad events.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Ron huffs, “what did you get in your tea leaves?”

“A cross and a cloud,” Draco recounts, “Crabbe and Goyle had chains which was weird.”

“That’s hardship and trouble,” Hermione says, “and the chains mean responsibility.”

“That settles it, Crabbe and Goyle aren’t responsible,” Ron says, nudging Draco, “divination doesn’t work."

“They’re responsible for certain things though,” Draco says, neatly sidestepping out of range of future nudges, “I thought you would have more issue with my supposed hardship.”

“Supposed indeed,” Hermione says hotly, “I wouldn’t listen to a word she says. I’m thinking of dropping it.”

“You? Dropping a subject?” Ron asks incredulously, “never going to happen.”

Draco looks over at Harry as the two break out into argument, smirking at the antics going on. It’s not long before they’re all teasing each other, only stopping when Madame Pince glares at them all sharply. They dutifully work in near silence for a while, at least until Hermione gets a question wrong and Ron declares it the coming of the end. 

——

Harry, unsurprisingly, does wonderfully with Buckbeak. As he approaches Draco is scared that his prediction of death will come true right before their eyes but it all smooths out in the end, Harry bows, scratches, even rides Buckbeak. 

Hagrid goes a bit nuts when that happens, tittering about the place and worrying that something will go wrong. Draco is much more composed, no matter what Blaise says. When the hippogriff lands and Harry jumps off, Draco releases the breath he’s been holding. Hagrid is busy congratulating Harry when Draco decides he wants to try too.

Harry was fine with Buckbeak, and he has no experience with animals. Draco has been playing with Nagini his whole life, surely he knows more than Harry, surely he’ll be fine.

He walks up confidently, ignoring both Hagrid’s concerned look and Crabbe and Goyle’s hands as they reach out to stop him. He stops in front of Buckbeak and bows low, channelling the Death Eaters he’s seen around the manor sometimes.

“Carefully,” Hagrid reminds him, “walk up and pat ‘im, then step back.” Draco huffs under his breath, Harry didn’t have those rules, why did he?

When Buckbeak bows after him, he happily rights himself and plods forwards, taking a second to make sure that Buckbeak is okay with him gently soothing his hand over his mane of feathers. He feels soft, and Draco can feel muscles underneath shift with each movement. Hagrid is fidgeting behind him so he takes pity and steps back again, bowing once more. 

“I don’t know what the big deal is,” he remarks casually, “it’s not dangerous or anything, hardly special.” 

Then the bird attacks.

Draco, luckily, has gotten a fair way away during his walk and so by the time he realises Buckbeak is aggressive he can run. A talon gets dangerously close but Hagrid pulls out some ferrets and distracts him. Draco, meanwhile has dashed into the golden trio, almost bowling them all over. When they leave he’s rattled, but no one is hurt.

Snape does not know about the incident, at least not until one of the Slytherins lets it slip to his older sibling and they let it slip during a potions class.

From then on Draco is not allowed to interact with any more creatures unless someone other than Harry Potter does so first.

——

Professor Lupin is skilled, Draco will give him that, but he is slightly worried about his teaching skills. It’s not as bad as Lockhart’s, and might be slightly better than Professor Snape’s (Draco’s biased, not stupid.), but sometimes Draco worries about his teacher’s in general. Like when he asked them all to line up and test a spell for the first time against an enemy. 

Nevertheless, Draco does kind of enjoy the experience. It’s fun watching his friends turn their fears into caricatures in wigs or monsters in makeup. Pansy turns a scary clown into a man in horrible clothes. Blaise turns his father back from the dead into his mother swishing around the room. Theo’s fear (which Draco doesn’t quite understand or recognise) is turned into a stack of books.

Then it’s Draco’s turn. He strolls up, flicking a spare strand of hair behind his ear, and prepares his wand. The boggart notices him, transforming in its whirlwind until suddenly Draco is staring down a basilisk.

He adverts his eyes on reflex, feeling cold with terror, just watching as the scales slither over each other as the snake comes closer. Then he steals himself, forcing his muscles to unfreeze long enough to cast the spell.

It leaves him strangely breathless, and he wonders if that’s how his friends felt. He takes a glance at the creation his mind made up and almost bursts into laughter.

It’s Nagini, covered in coloured spots. The boggart is hissing like it’s annoyed, curling up and twisting around to look at itself. Lupin looks concerned, but Draco bypasses him, head held high as he walks to the viewing corner and lets Crabbe go next.

After class, Lupin looks like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t. Draco isn’t too concerned, he knows his reaction wasn’t like everyone else’s, but if the Professor really wants to know he can ask Severus. Draco isn’t going to explain what happened last year again.

Lupin, however, was more concerned about where he had seen that coloured snake before.

——

Commotion is not a strange occurrence at Hogwarts. Life and death situations are still, not a strange occurrence. So when everyone is called into the Great Hall for a massive sleepover, Draco is only mildly concerned.

Until he realises Harry is probably in the centre of it all.

“It’s a slashed portrait,” Harry tries to defend himself, “nothing to do with me.”

“Sirius Black is trying to kill you,” Draco retorts, “only you.”

“Let us worry about you,” Hermione says, “it seems every year you’re up against something.”

“Nothing happened to me last year.”

“That’s the exception,” Ron points out smartly, “everything else has been pretty bad.”

“You need bodyguards,” Draco suggests, “I think there’s a few second years that would be acceptable. In the meantime, Greg or Vince would be happy to look after you.”

“No thanks,” Harry says, “I wouldn’t want to stop them from protecting you.”

“I’m not the one in danger,” Draco points out.

“You’re not setting up for bed either,” Ron mutters, “why are you guys sleeping in the Great Hall anyway. Your portrait didn’t get slashed.”

“Everyone has to sleep here for protection,” Hermione calls over, “it’s easier for the professors to patrol.”

“My bed’s already set up,” Draco cuts in, “I’m stuffed over in the corner.”

“Why don’t you join us over here?” Harry asks, patting down his blankets.

“Severus won’t let me anywhere near you since you’re the one most likely to be murdered. I tried, believe me.” Draco huffs a sigh, mirrored sarcastically by Ron as he attempts to make his bed comfortable. Before an argument can develop the professors rush everyone to bed. 

Draco is bracketed by children around him, in one of the most protected areas of the Great Hall. He can still see a sliver of the Gryffindors, angling his head just so reveals most of them. 

He doesn’t think they can see him, but he feels comforted nonetheless. Or maybe that’s the cushioning charm Severus had cast before he laid down.

Either way, he sleeps well.

——

Harry falls off the broom. He goes up after the snitch and the next thing anyone sees is him falling to his death. Draco doesn’t even realise at first, thinking Harry is doing some stupid stunt in the air, but then Draco sees his broom fly off into the distance and promptly starts screaming. 

Thankfully Harry is saved by Dumbledore, who after a second of confusion casts a strong spell. Draco isn’t sure what it is, but it’s successful is slowing Harry down before he turns into a pile of meat that would eerily mirror his arm from the last quidditch mishap.

Seeing Harry heartbroken after his broom is broken is awful for Draco. He begs both Snape and Voldemort to let him buy a new one for his friend, but Harry is the one who puts a stop to that line of thought and insists he doesn’t need a new one.

It makes Draco feel even worse when the gift broom comes in and McGonagal confiscates it. He can’t even take responsibility for the broom because Snape had already told the teachers that Harry had declined a gift from them. 

“It’s the safe thing to do,” Hermione tries to console, “and you’ll get it back soon.”

“Before the next quidditch match for sure, mate,” Ron adds in.

“You can borrow mine if you want, until you get yours back,” Draco offers. Harry shakes his head, dislodging all off them. He crosses his arms, radiating anger but turning away rather than taking it out on them.

“The broom is fine, everyone is just going crazy,” he mutters, hanging his head, “he’s meant to be an insane murderer right? Giving me a cursed broom is too much planning.”

“McGonagall just doesn’t want you to be hurt,” Hermione tries.

“And I don’t want her to take my gift from me,” Harry shoots back, then he sighs. “I’m sorry, I just want to be alone right now.” 

The kids nod, rushing over each other to say goodbyes and leave Harry to his brooding. So, yes, Draco is feeling really guilty, and he wants to make it better but he can’t. Even Severus isn’t giving him helpful advice, because he can’t really do anything at all, just be there for Harry until he gets his broom back, which hopefully isn’t long.

——

Harry always kind of thought that Crabbe and Goyle being bodyguards was an exaggeration. It was something silly and so very Slytherin that only really made sense to them. This is proven wrong quite suddenly when both of them attack him at once.

He’s watching Ron, Hermione and Draco as they chat about the shrieking shack, readying himself for a fantastic prank when suddenly he’s hit by two stunning spells at once. They knock him back a few feet, rendering him immobile. 

Crabbe stalks over, roughly pulling the invisibility cloak over Harry’s head, and then he immediately relaxes.

“Why didn’t you say it was you?” Crabbe asks, offering a hand to help Harry up.

Harry grabs it, too winded to make a reply. He can see his friends, Goyle fully covering Draco while Ron and Hermione look over in shock. As soon as they recognise him they break away and dash towards him.

“Are you okay?” Hermione asks, almost bowling Harry over and making him winded again.

“Yeah,” Harry wheezes, “how did you know I was there?” He directs the question at Crabbe but he’s not sure if that translates as Ron and Hermione are frantically smothering him.

“We saw your tracks in the snow,” Goyle points out, trailing behind Draco who is shyly coming over, “we didn’t know who you were.”

“We need to tag you,” Draco mentions offhandedly, “or at least make you wear special shoes so this doesn’t happen again.”

Harry reaches a hand out to ruffle Draco’s hair revelling in his indignant squeak, “it’s fine, I just need to not sneak up on you anymore.”

“Or they could stop throwing spells around,” Ron butts in, glaring at Crabbe and Goyle, who both shrug.

“Seriously,” Harry placates, “don’t worry about it. Let’s just enjoy our trip.” So they do, all tracking through Hogsmeade and enjoying the day. Draco eventually peels off, catching up with Pansy, Theo and presumably Blaise as they go over to inspect some of the newer stores. Draco mentions something about future investments but Harry ignores it for the sake of his sanity.

Then Harry overhears a conversation he probably shouldn’t have and rushes off to pursue it. He leaves his friends in the dust and only feels slightly bad about it.

He hears McGonagall explain in simple terms exactly why Sirius Black is after him. That he led to the death of his parents and Harry feels so angry.

“He led Voldemort right to them, then went crazy,” Minister Fudge says, “we’re just lucky Voldemort died then and there or we might be facing more clones of Black.”

“You never found a body,” Madame Rosemerta points out, “why are you so confident he’s gone?”

“You believe that gossip?” The minister asks incredulously, “Voldemort was active consistently throughout his reign, he goes to kill Harry and then when he fails decides to disappear for over a decade? It’s a myth, a fairytale. We don’t need to worry about him.”

“Minister Fudge, let’s get back to the topic at hand,” McGonagall commands, “what to do with Harry’s protection. As Sirius is his godfather we have no idea what he knows or does not know and what he could use to his advantage.”

And that breaks Harry. He runs out, furious and betrayed. Not only is this insane murderer following him after killing his parents, but Sirius Black is his godfather. He could’ve grown up with a family if Black wasn’t awful. He could have been like Draco, cared for and not stuffed into a cupboard. 

He hates it, that this life was possible but his godfather was too insane to take care of him. He holes himself up in the Gryffindor common room and refuses to think of possibilities, instead letting his rage consume him. 

——

“You’re father’s a prick, Draco,” Harry mentions over breakfast one morning as Draco is buttering his toast.

“Guardian,” he corrects on reflex, still attending to his breakfast, “and I am aware of his less amazing qualities but I hardly think he garners such a violent reaction.”

“He caught me out last night and took the Marauders Map!” Harry hisses, “that was mine!”

“That map was sort of against the rules,” Hermione interrupts, only to be shushed by Harry and gently redirected by Ron.

“Not the point,” Harry retorts, turning back to Draco, “can you get it back for me?”

“Harry,” Draco says, finally admitting defeat and turning to face him fully, “Severus raised me, I can’t get anything past him. That’s why I gave the Weasley Twin Terrors that journal last year. You’d have better luck asking Crabbe and Goyle.”

“You think I should ask them?” Harry asks, sounding halfway between incredulous and hopeful.

Draco rolls his eyes and turns back to his plate, “you’d have better luck using that cape of yours to take it back. But don’t blame me when you get caught.”

If Harry ever tries to, Draco doesn’t know. Severus certainly doesn’t mention it, and Draco doesn’t dare ask. If Harry’s gotten himself into trouble with Gryffindor antics, Draco is not going to drag himself into it as well.

——

Draco had ditched Crabbe and Goyle to hang out with the golden trio and is regretting that decision. Ron ran off to find Scabbers (which, honestly, Draco had offered to buy him a better rat) and had ended up sprawled underneath the whomping willow.

They had yelled at him frantically, and he had yelled back and then suddenly he was being dragged off by the Grim under the tree.

Then they had to fight their way under the tree as well, all three of them ending up with bruises and cuts along their arms and torsos until they managed to get past. It was even more terrifying because they could hear Ron screaming the whole time, and were constantly worried that they would be too late. Sore and aching they made their way through the long dark corridor, mottled with mould and damp spots. The path eventually led them out to an abandoned house, dreary and destroyed. 

Ron was propped up on a bed, whimpering over his injured leg with Scabbers squeaking in his hands.

Then he points, shakily at a figure in the corner, and the kids all scramble away as Sirius Black himself stalks forward. The door closes and they are trapped.

“If you’re going to kill Harry, you’ll have to go through us!” Hermione declares as Sirius gets closer.

“Only one will die tonight,” the madman retorts poetically. Harry tackles him, bringing him to the ground in a surprising display of strength. Choking and spluttering Sirius taunts him.

Draco is honestly scared Harry is going to kill him, then Lupin bursts in and disarms him. The conversation going on is mostly lost to Draco, who’s frozen in fear, his vision splotchy and his ears buzzing.

Lupin hands over his wand, Harry starts shouting in fear and betrayal. Then Draco’s life is turned on its head.

“Peter Pettigrew,” Sirius spits, “he was your parents' secret keeper, Harry, and he handed over your parents to vicious, murderous Death Eaters.” He turns his mad eyes onto Draco and points, “you’re parents.”

“No,” Draco rebuts instantly, “that’s a lie. My parents were attacked!”

“No, boy,” Sirius laughs, “they went into the Potter’s house to murder everyone there. I’m not even sorry they died too.”

“Sirius,” Lupin hisses, “they are things more important here.”

“Yes, Peter! Come out and play!” Sirius calls waving the wand around. Severus rounds the corner behind him, disarming the lunatic and casting his eye rapidly about the room.

“Draco,” he says, an acknowledgement and a question rolled into one.

“Tell Sirius about my parents,” Draco demands, “he’s batty. Thinks they killed Harry’s family.”

Severus flicks his eyes and his wand toward Sirius, who laughs. He doesn’t tell Sirius the truth, instead glances at Lupin and then back down to Draco.

“Knew you hung around with slimy snakes, Severus, but adopting their children!” Sirius cackles.

“No,” Draco mutters, “no, no, no,” his frantic cries grow in volume as he frantically looks at first the adults and then his friends. “Severus,” he pleads, “they didn’t. Uncle Sev please.” Severus drops to his level and opens his mouth, but Draco knows that posture, that’s the bad news crouch, and so he starts crying. 

“Draco?” Harry breathes, saying his name like it’s the first time he’s seen him.

“Harry, I didn’t know,” Draco cries, “they wouldn’t, it’s not true.” But it is, and he knows now. He looks around and he knows he’s lesser in their eyes, horrible and tainted by association. So he runs. 

He pushes past Severus’ arm and leaves, stumbling back down the tunnel and out the other side. He runs all the way back to Hogwarts, but instead of turning down into the Slytherin common room he runs up to the towers. He cries his heart out, sobbing as the moon rises above him. 

He doesn’t talk to Severus the next day, avoids the Gryffindors wherever possible. He doesn’t care about stories that Buckbeak disappeared and Sirius Black escaped. Crabbe and Goyle stick closer than glue but Draco doesn’t care. He keeps appearance but avoids people’s eyes, terrified of what he’ll see. 

He tells Severus via letter that he’ll be going home on the train. Makes his way to the Manor by himself, and requests dinner in his room to the elves.

Then Voldemort comes into his room and tries to talk to him. At first, he’s resistant, refusing to answer or giving clipped sentences, but then Voldemort weaves a story about his parents that sounds so poetic and wonderful. How they started serving him, their reasons for their trust and loyalty. The story of how Voldemort regretted sending his best followers to take care of his business but how he was still proud of them and their achievements.

“They loved you,” Voldemort reassures him, “they were loyal and some of my best followers. They were not needlessly violent, they were intellectual and proud of their heritage, as you should be.”

And so Draco relaxes, demands the full story of his parent’s death, that he is told the truth, and eventually comes around. His perception of them is changed, but Draco still looks up to his parents, to a certain extent. He hugs Severus when he comes through the floo, both of them reassuring each other that they are still connected. Voldemort watches on approvingly, greeting them both and enjoying Draco, and by extension life, slowly returning to normal.

It’s still a change, a definite one, but it’s okay. Draco just might not be able to ever talk to his Gryffindor friends again. That’s the one thing he still regrets late at night when he begs Dobby not to tell his guardians that he’s crying again.

But he doesn’t have to see them yet. Not until next year, he can manage until then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took ages to get out, I'm super sorry. There's more Slytherin interactions, hopefully an explanation for why Harry is still kind of special, and also a horribly sad ending. I hope your ready for whatever I pull out when the canon Voldemort becomes a real threat because I have no idea what I'll do then. If you guys have any suggestions/prompts feel free to let me know!
> 
> Also, thank you guys, we reached 1000 hits! (plus a massive amount of comments, kudos and bookmarks.) You are all awesome, and this tiny odd ficlet getting so much attention is amazing! As always, have a great day and I hope you enjoyed.


	15. six years - playtime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco's introduction to his forever friends, and some amazing dress ups that are certainly not foreshadowing anything.

Draco is understandably nervous around a bunch of brand new children. He’s never really been around kids who are talkative, the introduction to Crabbe and Goyle last month a quiet and calm affair. They were gentle, their parents hovering around to ensure that Draco doesn’t get too jostled or frightened 

Pansy, Blaise and Theo have no such reservations about being gentle. They were understandably excited at the new environment and new people. They were polite when taking Draco’s toys, but he was still upset.

“Give it back!” Draco demands, holding his hand out as Blaise gallops the thestrals around the forest Severus had set up, “it’s mine!”

“I asked for it,” Blaise retorts, physically turning away.

“I didn’t say yes,” Draco reaches around, being foiled as Blaise simply turns further.

“You didn’t say no,” Blaise retorts, forgoing playing and simply holding the thestral to his chest, “go play with the unicorns.”

“Race with me!” Pansy declares from her spot on the carpet, unicorn figures laying around her. She’s trotting them against Theo, who looks as skeptical as a six year old can look.

Draco is unconvinced. “I want to race with a thestral.” 

Blaise sighs, rolling his eyes, he hands over a thestral foal to Draco’s outstretched hand. Draco grins, grabbing it and practically skipping over to Pansy and Theo, the three of them making neighing noises as they make their toys run a course through the trees. Blaise eventually makes his way over as well, lying on his stomach to join in the races. 

As expected from a group of highly ridiculous six year olds, a fight breaks out again.

“You’re cheating!” Theo accuses Pansy as her unicorn goes past the finish line.

“No,” Pansy retorts, “you’re all just bad players.”

“You cut through the field! Blaise, Draco, you saw it!” Theo waves his arms wildly, gaining Draco’s attention, who had previously been playing house with his thestral foal, his magic dragon and a vampire doll in-between races.

“I went around the field,” Blaise says, in defence of himself or in accusation to Pansy, it’s hard to tell.

“Racing is boring now,” Draco huffs, prancing his thestral around the space he cleared out as a manor, “I want to play something else.”

“Like what?” Pansy asks, happy to let go of the argument. Theo glares at her.

“We can play dress up,” Blaise suggests, “do you have fancy clothes?”

“Uncle Sev has a fancy box in his room,” Draco suggests, “and Auntie Bella has lots of necklaces and bracelets and rings!”

“Hairclips?” Pansy cuts in, already standing up and brushing off her dress. (Her mum had put her in her nice, but uncomfortable, dress and she wants to change.)

“We can see,” Draco allows. So the group tiptoes around the manor until Draco pushes open the door to Severus’ room. He instructs the group to wait outside until Draco throws open the wardrobe and finds the trunk at the bottom full of robes that Severus never uses.

He attempts to drag it out, and has to ask for help when he can barely move it an inch. The four manage to heave the box out into the hallway, where Draco reveals the spoils to everyone else.

“They’re boring robes,” Pansy complains, “they’re no fun colours.”

“There are masks though,” Theo says, placing a black and white mask over his face. He growls playfully, chasing Draco and Pansy around. Blaise grabs another mask, handing one out to Pansy and taking one for himself.

“There’s only three,” Draco complains, digging around in the box. His hand brushes against something hard nestled down the bottom, and Draco tugs on it. It takes a second, and a lot of force, but eventually the thing comes out.

Draco lands on his back, but holds up his prize successfully with a yelp of both pain and joy. It’s a mask like the others, but unlike the swirls and obvious patterns on the other masks this mask is plainer, the design etched in subtly. Draco doesn’t see it until he twists it just so and the light catches on it.

“I got one too!” Draco says happily, placing it over his face.

“We’re bandits,” Pansy says excitedly, “or superwizards.”

“Unspeakables,” Theo whispers, tripping over the syllables, “can we wear the robes?”

“I think so,” Draco says, grabbing one out and trying to hold up its weight, “Auntie Bella would have prettier robes though.”

“Can we see those?” Pansy says excitedly, while Theo grabs the robe and slips it on. Blaise grabs one of the black ones as well, trying to hike up the robe that falls well below his feet.

Draco leads them all to Bellatrix’s room, he doesn’t need to sneak around in here because Auntie Bella lets him take whatever he wants, whenever he wants, as long as it’s not in her locked boxes.

He lets Pansy take a purple robe with silver edging, while Draco eagerly scoops up a green one. They struggle into them, and then eagerly inspect her jewellery box. They each pick one thing, except for Draco who chooses two, and put them on. 

To an outsider, the image is terribly funny. Four little kids in giant masks, with robes pooling around them struggling to run around a bedroom does make quite a sight. The jewellery is hanging off of them, even more comedic than the oversized robes, but the kids don’t mind.

Their parents, however, do not laugh when they find them playing in the play room.

“Oh, Theo,” Nott Sr scolds, flicking the mask up onto the top of his head, “what are you doing?”

“We’re unspeakables,” Theo says, letting his dad take off the robe.

“No,” Pansy protests, “it’s a masquerade.”

“Yeah!” Draco agrees, pulling off his own mask, and tripping his way over to Severus, “we found masks in your spare box.”

Severus pulls the mask gently out of his hand and absentmindedly traces the lines on it. “It’s perfectly fine, Draco,” he assures, “I only request that you ask me first.”

The other parents only shift around nervously, even Nott has stopped scolding, instead they all watch for Severus’ cue. Severus, meanwhile, seems lost in thought, tracing the almost clear patterns with his thumb.

“You can put it on,” Draco suggests, which prompts a smirk.

“Maybe later,” Severus says, tapping the mask with his wand and sending it away. “Can you all give back your costumes, unfortunately playtime is over.”

That springs the parents into action, who all quickly help their children give back the borrowed items and give them to the house elves who packed the toys away. As the children are shuffled out of the door Draco says goodbye to them all happily, planning future playdates.

“Was that enjoyable?” Severus asks once everyone is gone.

“Yeah!” Draco says, “why is your mask in your stuff box?”

“Why are you looking my ‘stuff box’?” Severus asks right back, “should I put you in there?”

“No!” Draco giggles, “I don’t want to be in your stuff box!”

They don’t talk about the mask in the end, neither do they discuss the reason Draco’s friends’ parents were all in a meeting with Voldemort, nor the fact that the kids all wore their most presentable clothes.

However, much to Voldemort’s joy, Draco does ask if he can wear a mask like Severus’ when he’s older. The Dark Lord promises to make a special one just for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! Another short little part with some more slytherin interaction. Just to clarify, Draco finds Serverus' death eater mask in the bottom of the box. I thought about making it Lucius' but Sev decided to override that decision for me. As always, I hope you enjoyed, and have a great day!


	16. four months - first words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco Malfoy, heir to the Malfoy name and raised by the two most dramatic people you will ever meet is finally saying words. Well, a word.

Voldemort is not attached to Draco, per se, he much prefers handing off his parental duties to Severus, but the spy is in an important meeting. Even Bellatrix is having a trip away with the LeStranges, and Crouch still holds Draco like he’s holding a bomb.

So he’s sitting in his throne room looking over some long term plans and plotting ministers he can persuade, all the while trying to ignore Nagini and Draco hissing at each in the corner. Draco is on his front, putting effort into wiggling around and watching as Nagini dances around him.

Nagini is hissing to him, Voldemort understands them as endearments mixed with confusion over the babies actions. Draco’s hissing is also translatable, but it’s mostly baby babble and any recognisable words seem to be purely on accident. Draco’s hisses are also interrupted by spit and sounds like ‘th’ and ‘z’, which grates on Voldemort’s ears as his magic struggles to translate them.

Eventually, he’s had enough and calls out, “Draco,” as a slight reprimand. Draco’s head pulls itself up, looking at his Protector with wide eyes and waiting for more fun words. He could only pick up the meaning of a few, but he understood most words had fun or important meanings.

“No more noise,” Voldemort instructs, looking over a news article proclaiming his demise (third one this week, along with another ‘proposed sighting’, they really are getting entertaining,) “at least, not until you can actually speak parseltongue.”

“Ssss,” Draco persists, “ssssp.” He directs the noise at Nagini, then when she decides to ignore the child he whines. “No!” He asserts, reaching out with his hands.

Voldemort stops reading halfway through a sentence and simply lifts his gaze to look at the child. “What was that, Draco?” He asks, calm as ever.

Draco whines, still reaching out with both hands, “no,” he says again as if asking the universe to return Nagini to him.

Internally, Voldemort is screaming. Internally, Voldemort has begun to frantically demand Draco repeat his words so he knows he’s not just hearing things. Internally he has started recording this conversation so he can keep this little sound forever. Externally, Voldemort is calm and composed as he carefully puts the paper away and glides over to the child on the floor.

Nagini has obliged in handing her tail back to Draco, letting him bend it in his little hands. Voldemort gently takes the tail out of his fingers, taking Draco and sitting him in one of the chairs. He doesn’t seem pleased with this, wiggling around until he realises he is not getting out of this situation.

“I cannot believe your first word is no,” Voldemort tells him, “surely you have more in that little brain?”

“No,” Draco says.

“Was that an answer or have are you just repeating yourself?” Voldemort asks, separating Draco’s hand from his cloak when it wanders too close.

Draco whines, “no,” he repeats, “no!”

“Can you say other words? Perhaps Dark Lord?” 

“No!”

“Snake?”

“No!”

“Slytherin?”

Draco looks at him, and carefully explains to him, “no,” before trying to wiggle off the chair. Voldemort places him on the ground, watching as Draco shimmies along the floor. Nagini joins him a second later, both of them squirming together, one much more gracefully than the other. 

It’s ridiculous, Voldemort ponders as he watches, that this little flesh thing has taken his attention, but it seems that it has. A four-month-old with a vocabulary of ‘no’ has warmed his cold dead heart. When Draco rolls himself over onto his back and looks up at Voldemort, gently reaching his arms up, he caves and sits down next to him.

Severus returns, hours later, to find Voldemort still trying to coax Draco into saying more complicated words. He does not succeed, and to both of their horror his second word is in fact ‘dada’. Bellatrix is thrilled with this news and they revoke her babysitting rights for a week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! I'm back! Sorry for not updating for ages, I finished my other long fic I was writing at the same time, and I hit a massive writers block. Just lost motivation for anything, but that's pretty normal, I get weird cycles of writing so don't worry, this will be updated in the future! It just might take me a second to think of stuff and get my thoughts out. Thank you all for reading and still supporting me though! I hope you have a great day!


	17. interlude - bellatrix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mourning your family while caring for a child isn't easy.

Bellatrix is proud when she returns from her mission. She is filled with joy and mirth as she slips past the Aurors and returns to her Lord. She practically crows it from the rooftops. She has prevented her Lords downfall, she herself has conquered an enemy.

She can’t wait to find Cissy, to ask how her mission went. The two Black sisters, together, working for the betterment of magical society. She looks for her, but she hasn’t returned yet. To be fair, Bellatrix went with Rodolphus, Rabastan, and the littler Crouch, Cissy only had Lucius as backup. She can understand it may take her extra time.

The Dark Lord praises her for her work, seems happy with her loyalty, and when she is dismissed she feels bubbly inside. She has succeeded. She has won.

Then Cissy doesn’t return. She never returns. She lays in a coffin under the marigolds in the corner of the manor and Bellatrix doesn’t deal with it. She destroys the surrounding garden, she destroys the surrounding tombs, but she can’t bring herself to destroy Cissy. 

So she destroys more. A frog that wonders by her, a bird that comes too close to the grave, any peacocks that decide to dig up the gardens. She threatens the house-elves, she smashes the cups. Why do these things get to be here when Cissy doesn’t? It’s not fair.

The death eaters mourn with her, but they do not mourn like her. They attend the funeral, they leave gifts, but they’re not her sister. Even Rodolphus doesn’t truly understand, but he lets her stay with him and he comforts her. The only person she can really turn to is Severus, who sometimes seems to understand, in a slightly different way, but he’s always busy or distracted and the time they do spend together is awkward because they weren’t close before.

Then she finds out about Draco. Her mind had wandered to him before, but she had to ignore him to avoid simply being crushed by grief. She hadn’t seen him, had assumed him dead along with his parents, but the Dark Lord had saved him, was raising him.

And Draco was perfect. He was bubbly and joyous, and she treasured every moment she spent with him. She would take him out to the gardens or show him the library, or sometimes sneak him extra treats after meals. As he grows she sees both Cissy and Lucius in him, the curve of his nose, the tilt of his head, the shine of his hair. 

Bellatrix is content being the fun aunt, she never saw herself as anything more. She wouldn’t be able to raise Draco herself, but she still seems him often enough to feel involved. Severus doesn’t mind her watching him, and often the Dark Lord will request her presence with him. 

She watches him grow up, future unfolding before him like flowers blooming above a grave. She feels proud, her little nephew is growing into a confident teenager, a powerful adversary, and an even better person.

Sometimes, when she sits above Cissy’s body by herself, she just thinks. She thinks of telling her about the family she’s left behind, about the wonderful things that have come from her, about the way she’s united the Dark Forces into something more powerful than she could have imagined.

She doesn’t, she just lets herself sit until Draco comes over and demands to talk with her. If she holds him a little tighter, there’s no one to see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I know this is not Draco or Voldemort or even Severus related really, but I wanted to write it so...here. I'm working on fourth year, but it might take a while. There's a few bits and pieces that need to be reworked to fit properly. I hope you all enjoy, and have a great day!


	18. fourth year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quidditch Cup, Triwizard Tournament, Voldemort coming back, Yule Ball. One of these is not like the others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long one, like double the length of the last one, so enjoy! (There is violence and gore, but no more than the actual Harry Potter books, so feel free to skip around as needed.)

Draco is very excited to visit the Quidditch World Cup. The plans had been pencilled in for months, Severus and Marvolo arguing back and forth about who would go, who else would be there, what they would talk about, on and on until Draco wasn’t sure why they should bother. For a while, Marvolo had insisted he go in disguise, to talk to the ministers that would be there, but Severus had managed to talk him out of it. Draco doesn’t really care who comes with him, he only wants to see the quidditch players, maybe steal a few moves for himself.

He dresses in some of his nicest robes, knowing that this is mostly a social call, and takes a second to fix his hair in the mirror. He’s let it grow out, mostly because he was too lazy to get it cut (or too sad to think about it) but it feels nice to tie up. It only brushes his shoulders, but it’s enough for Pansy to insist on giving him little ribbons for it. 

He lets it hang down today, gelled neatly into place with a few playful strands hanging around. Severus has coached him through his duties today, the main one being to have fun and relax, but also that he is to be respectful to the ministers. Draco is hoping that presenting himself as slightly immature will allow them to overlook any mistakes he makes in greeting them. He’s nervous because this is an important event, Marvolo is trusting both of them on this special mission to get support for their cause.

He shakes himself out once, happy when everything remains carefully in place, and practically skips down to the hall. Marvolo places his hand on his shoulder and squeezes in silent praise, his attention directed towards the elves carrying the tent.

Severus comes over to grab his hand, using the one not preoccupied with the Portkey.

“This is our ticket to and from the Cup,” Severus explains for the third time, “if we get split up, call for an elf or find a floo.”

“It’s like you plan on leaving me behind,” Draco sniffs dramatically.

“Draco,” Severus snaps, “this is serious.”

“I know. You’ve told me,” Draco huffs, “you don’t need to tell me again, I’m not four.”

“If you were, you would be a much better listener,” Marvolo interrupts, a smirk playing on his lips.

“His first word was ‘no’,” Severus rebuts back, “I would argue that before that he was a good listener.”

“My ears still work, thank you,” Draco gently separates himself from the pair and grabs his little suitcase, “I just decide if I want to listen to you.”

Severus hums, gently placing his hand on Draco’s shoulder and preparing the portkey. “Well, maybe you should listen and say goodbye.”

“Goodbye,” Draco says to be agreeable, waving as he’s zipped away. 

They land just outside a ticket booth, and Severus leads them to the express lane. They pass through quickly, the wizard taking a look at their gold slip and passing them through. Draco is not entirely sure how they got the tickets, how they’ve managed to garner the Minister of Magic’s attention, but he’s glad their box has refreshments. Severus can’t even stop him from taking an extra biscuit.

The Minister and Severus exchange pleasantries, and Draco is formally introduced. For some reason, Fudge insists on ruffling Draco’s hair but luckily the gel keeps everything in place. They chat about future plans, a few mentions of inner Ministry workings as well as some carefully worded questions about power, but Draco barely pays any mind, instead looking out over the field. 

Just before the teams enter, he spots frantic movement out of the corner of his eye, a group of redheads and some others. He knows he shouldn’t, but he looks, glancing over at Harry, Ron and Hermione. They look older, as he’s sure he does, but they don’t necessarily look changed. They’re all captivated by the field until Harry notices him out of the corner of his eye.

Harry and Draco lock eyes for the first time in months. Neither is sure how they feel, or even how they should feel. Shocked? Annoyed? Regretful? It’s a mix.

The moment is broken by Ron grabbing Harry’s hand and squeezing it, their eyes breaking away. Draco returns his attention to the Minister, who smiles at him.

“Friends with Harry Potter?” Fudge asks, merely curious and unaware of the hurt it’s causing.

“We were yes,” Draco agrees, letting a smile slip onto his face, “however we had a fight last year.”

“Oh, well, you’ll get through it.” 

Draco feels his smile turn brittle, “I’m worried this is something we can’t get through.”

“You always can,” Fudge assures, before turning the conversation into safer topics. Soon after, the game starts and they are all sufficiently distracted. Draco stubbornly refuses to let his eyes wander from the field, he’s sure Harry does the same.

——

Severus is surprisingly antsy after the Cup, stress hidden in the lines of his body, but still present all the same.

“Are you upset about Ireland winning?” Draco asks, trying to at least lighten the mood, “I know I am.”

“No, their tactics were clearly better,” Severus replies, mind still stuck miles away from the conversation at hand.

“But Krum was an excellent Seeker,” Draco says, before smirking, “maybe I’ll employ some of his tactics.”

“Absolutely not,” Snape snaps, drawn back by Draco’s ridiculous proposal, “you saw what happened to the Irish Seeker when he attempted them.”

“The Irish Seeker was not as good as I am,” Draco points out, “I bet I could do it first try.”

“I will take away your broom,” Severus argues, “you’ll break your arm and then you’ll never be able to fly again.”

“I’ll just not use my arms.”

Severus stares at him, and keeps staring, and then scoffs. “You’re ridiculous,” he mutters, “riding without arms. How will you keep your balance?”

“Practice,” Draco tells him, having too much fun. Snape ignores him, instead heading further into the tent. Draco sits around for a while, swinging his legs on the chair before deciding he’s had enough. He can still hear Severus muttering away and decides not to bother him, he’ll just be out for a second, to get some cotton candy and then come back. It’s not too dark.

He grabs a few coins and his coat before leaving, breathing in the cool air. Severus had cooped him up in the tent as soon as the game ended, even though he wanted to look at a few of the stalls. Well, now he can. 

He wanders past the usual candy stops and food stalls, takes a quick look around one of the little book stands, and then spends much more time than he should in a knick-knack shop, filled with both magical and non-magical trinkets. There’s a darling little cauldron that bubbles on a string, and near it, he finds a fairly over-exaggerated python ring which he thinks will amuse Marvolo to no end. As he contemplates whether he should get these or some lollies instead, the sun sets and chaos begins.

Draco is unaware until he hears the screams. He ducks back out of the store in time to see wizards and witches running and screaming. He doesn’t know what’s going on, only that people are scared, and people are hurt. He doesn’t really want to belong to either of these parties and so he runs too. As he sprints back to the tent he sees people being hoisted up into the air, shrieking like they’re dying, and he wants to cover his ears.

He’s almost to the tent when he sees the Golden Trio. They’re dashing into the tree line, trying to avoid the attackers. He can’t blame them, he wants to do just the same. For a second Harry looks back and stops. Whatever has been hanging between them doesn’t matter if Harry’s dead and so Draco frantically motions for him to run. Luckily, he does, although his own pause has given one of the attackers the chance to get close. 

Someone grabs his upper arm, drags him about three steps before letting go. Draco looks up at the mask before him, almost shaking with fear. The masked attacker looks him over once, before promptly losing interest and returning to the mass of running victims. Draco does not lose interest.

He knows that mask, maybe not specifically but he’s seen similar ones around the manor, he’s seen them in his Aunt’s hands, on his Uncle’s face. He knows who these attackers are.

He runs. He dashes through the tents, tears streaming down his face as he rushes to wipe them off. He can see them clearly now, the dark robes similar to the ones Snape owns, the masks so eerily similar and yet none identical to the ones he used to play with. Do some of these people live in his house? Visit him? Is that person over there crucio-ing someone into submission Bellatrix?

“Draco,” someone calls, barrelling into him. At first, Draco flinches away, worried he’s been caught again, but then he realises who it is and clings close. Severus wraps an arm around him, holding the sobbing boy close. Draco spares a thought for drawing attention to himself but then realises that it doesn’t matter because they’re on his side.

He’s on their side.

That just makes him sob harder, and when he lands back home he knows he feels sick from more than just the portkey.

——

Voldemort enters his room, and he’s Voldemort now, not Marvolo. Marvolo wouldn’t tell his followers to just hurt people, to torture people for no possible gain. Marvolo is nice, not some bloodthirsty creature who decides to use a heavily populated event as an arena.

So, Voldemort sits next to him on the bed as Draco hastily wipes away his tears. The mattress sinks, but he doesn’t look. 

“I understand you’re upset,” Voldemort begins, in a tone that’s too gentle for who he is, “I know you’re angry, and you feel betrayed, and so I wanted to clear things up for you.” Draco remains stubbornly quiet, turning away and crossing his arms.

“Draco, what happened last night was a necessary display,” Voldemort begins and Draco’s silence is abruptly broken.

“There’s nothing necessary about hurting people,” Draco spits, “why would anyone need to hurt innocent people? To kill them, or torture them. It’s never necessary.”

“I did not tell them to kill people,” Voldemort defends harshly, “last night, Death Eaters were only there to frighten people, any harm they did was easily healed or merely psychological,” he softens, “no one was intentionally maimed, Draco, I never gave the order for merciless violence.”

“But why do you need to scare people in the first place?” Draco asks, shrinking in on himself.

Voldemort swallows, not a sign of nervousness, but merely an action to wet his throat, “Draco,” he begins gently, “before you were born, we were at war. Your parents fought with me for a better future for all magic users, even if that meant we were labelled as the bad side. We fought fairly at first, but they didn’t fight fairly against us. We had to use terror and violence, otherwise, they would ignore us, or worse, they would attack us first.”

“That was 14 years ago,” Draco butts in, “the war is over.”

“The war stopped because I realised something. We regrouped, we replanned, and we went into hiding. For us, the war has not stopped, we are still being persecuted, arrested, most of us live in fear of what the Light Side will do to us. Last night, we made a statement, that we are not scared, and we are ready for the war.”

“But why do we have to go to war?” Draco persists, standing up and flinging his arms out in annoyance. 

“The policies that the wizarding world has are not sustainable,” Voldemort begins, “they are not accepting of other creatures, they are intolerant of other types of magic, and they are naive when it comes to muggles. If muggles found out about our life, we will not survive. Muggles have weapons more powerful than our spells, as much as it pains me to admit it.”

“Is that why you don’t like Hermione?” Draco asks softly, “or Millicent?”

“In part, yes, I don’t trust muggle-borns to not expose us. Maybe not your friends, maybe only one muggle-born will want to expose the magic world, but it only takes one misplaced wand to put our entire world in jeopardy. Another part is that they display the Ministry’s hypocrisy, that muggle-borns are accepted but not creatures like werewolves, who could be full-blooded wizards.”

“Do you want to kill them?”

“No,” Voldemort soothes, gently wiping away a tear that’s escaped down Draco’s cheek, “no, I don’t want to kill them, I don’t want to hurt them even. I simply want to teach them the importance of keeping us, the wizarding world, safe. From anything. I wouldn’t hurt people if they didn’t force my hand.”

“Okay,” Draco murmurs, nodding along, “okay, I think I understand.”

“My ideologies are not widely accepted or talked about, but that doesn’t mean I’m wrong. If you need to ask me, you can. I understand if you have any troubles with this.”

“I still don’t like you hurting people,” Draco huffs, scrubbing at his eyes, “but if you promise you’re only hurting people that you have to then I think that’s okay.”

“Only people that I have to,” Marvolo confirms, gently running a hand down Draco’s hair, untangling the frantic knots it had gathered into, “are you ready for lunch now?”

“Yeah,” Draco murmurs, “let me get dressed.” He untangles himself, shooing Marvolo out of his room so he can redress himself. He thinks it over as he pulls on his robes for the day, and comes to a decision. It’s true what he said before, he can excuse violence if someone else attacks first, and so he thinks that he might be okay with everything going on. He’s not going to go out hurting people, but if people are getting hurt he wants to help. Any way he can.

——

Draco sits quietly at the Slytherin table. He is fully aware of the Gryffindors but would prefer not to be. Pansy, Theo and Blaise are sitting with him, letting him slowly integrate back into school life. They know he’s upset and uncomfortable, but they’re still trying to cheer him up and it helps. 

Dumbledore takes centre stage, standing behind the golden eagle on his little stand, and Draco half expects a mess of words intent on lightening the mood. It is not that, but instead, it is something far more exciting. Dumbledore announces the Triwizard Tournament, the grouping of three separate schools in a challenge to determine the most powerful. It sounds incredible! He’s upset about Quidditch being cancelled, but he’s got years for that, and Triwizard Tournament sounds much better.

They bring out this gorgeous cup, made of glass infused metal, with spiralling creatures as the handles. A brilliant blue flame comes from the centre, sparking up higher and higher. Dumbledore takes a second to introduce the new Defence Teacher, but Draco doesn’t really care, this year is going to be very exciting.

Afterwards, Severus invites Draco to his study.

“With the arrival of several schools,” Severus begins, “Marvolo and I were wondering if you would like to transfer.”

“Transfer? But I’m happy at Hogwarts,” Draco scoffs, drinking his tea daintily.

“Yes, but a place like Durmstrang may suit you better,” Severus tells him, “it has a much more diverse and accepting curriculum, along with that Seeker you like so much.”

“But it doesn’t have Slytherin, and it’s so far away.” Draco snags a biscuit, and Severus merely rolls his eyes.

“Just think about it,” Severus murmurs, before gently turning the conversation to his subjects. Draco’s mind, though, is stuck on the Cup sitting in the Great Hall.

——

Draco doesn’t care about the new Defence teacher, someone called Professor Moody who has already gotten a nickname after his magic eye. He’s always sipping out of this flask on his hip, but Draco’s seen weirder around the manor so he doesn’t really mind. 

Then Moody casts a spell on him. Him! 

Draco is simply walking to his common room when a snide Gryffindor decides to try and duel him. He’s ready to take on the challenge, even though Crabbe and Goyle are elsewhere, but then Moody comes in and decides to turn Draco into a ferret. He spouts some reason for doing so, and promptly scoops ferret-Draco up and carries him off.

Draco is very concerned about this fact. He’s upset to find that ferret eyes do not see very well, and he has no idea what’s going on. He hisses, biting harshly on Moody’s hands and arms, but the man doesn’t let up, instead carting him all the way to his office and then locking him in. 

Then Moody puts him on the table and steps back.

“Calm down, Draco,” the Professor says, watching as Draco scrambles around, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

‘Yeah?’ Draco wants to say, ‘you kidnapped me! I’m being kidnapped!’

“Draco, I need to tell you something,” Moody tells him, and then reaches a hand out as if to touch him. Draco freezes as the fingers approach his face, and then bites down hard. 

‘Take that!’ He thinks as the professor hisses in pain and clutches his finger.

“You weren’t even this bitey as a baby,” Moody complains, wobbling off to get something. Draco squints, tilting his head because he’s never met this man before in his life. At least, he thinks that he’s never met this man in his entire life.

When Moody returns he keeps his hands close, which suits Draco just fine. “I’m not actually Moody,” he tells the ferret, “I’m Barty.”

Draco tilts his head, watches as not-Moody reaches a hand out to try and grab him again. He bites.

“C’mon!” Not-Moody growls, “you know me, I’m Barty Crouch, I’ve been to your birthday parties!”

Draco tilts his head the other way in agreeance and then tries to push himself to his hind legs. This does not work as well as he had hoped, and so he hisses again. Moody seems to get the message though and waves his wand once more and suddenly Draco is a person again, sprawled over the Professor's desk.

“I see you are no better at dealing with animals than you are with children,” Draco says offhandedly, straightening his clothes, “what are you doing here by the way?”

“I’m on a mission, I just thought I should let you know I’ll be around Hogwarts like Severus is,” Crouch tells him, shaking the pain off. 

“How do I know you’re actually Barty?” Draco asks, sliding off the table and then immediately regretting it as he realises he’s shorter now.

“Um, I gave you building blocks for every birthday until you were ten because you seemed to enjoy them,” Barty says, and Draco laughs.

“Yes, they’re still in my room,” Draco grins, “I did enjoy them by the way, although it was kind of obvious you didn’t know what to get me.”

“You’re the first child I ever met, it was very confusing,” Barty defends, and Draco scoffs.

“I was an angel.”

“Sure,” Barty snarks, “that’s why Severus had to spell all the plates to be unbreakable.”

“He worries, it’s not my fault,” Draco defends, puling on his shirt cuffs and dusting himself off. “Anyway, I must get back now, or else the man in question will probably send out a search party.”

“I won’t be able to talk with you during classes,” Barty tells him before he leaves, “to keep my cover.”

“No problem, if you have a message for me you can pass it through Severus, or vice-versa,” Draco calls back as he leaves.

He hopes that Barty will get better with younger children, but this doesn’t seem to be the case as he thinks that dark curses are good learning material. Draco almost facepalms during class. Almost.

——

Draco will readily admit that the other schools have class. Durmstrang comes in on a ship reminiscent of fairytales. They sweep in, furs trailing behind them as swish against the floor. Cheers go up as the group parts to reveal Victor Krum coming to the front. He’s flanked by other students that Draco doesn’t recognise, but for some reason, the principal is a familiar face. He thinks there’s a picture somewhere in the Manor of him with his family.

The Beauxbatons are similarly spectacular, their carriage being pulled through the sky and butterflies erupting as they enter the hall. They flip through the air, their light blue uniforms twirling out. Draco suspects they’re made specifically to be used in acrobatics.

The students fan out from their school groups, gravitating towards certain tables and settling themselves down. Surprisingly, Krum attempts to seat himself near the golden trio (or maybe, it’s not that surprising considering how famous they both are). Most Beauxbatons spread to Ravenclaw, or even Hufflepuff, although a select few try their luck at the Gryffindor table.

Most Durmstrang students, however, move towards the Slytherin tables, slotting themselves in gaps. Draco attempts to scoot over to allow someone next to him but Goyle and Crabbe block him in and move as a unit. A student sits near his group anyway, a few do actually, and insert themselves casually into the conversation. Draco learns a lot about Dursmstrang, their classes and teachers as well as their preferred sports. He also learns about how they see his school, about why they’ve decided to come and sit at his table.

“You guys seem to be the most like us,” a student tells him, their s’s turning into z’s, “your values and ideals.”

“Then why is Krum sitting by the Golden Trio?” Draco asks, indicating across the hall.

“He’s got a crush!” One of the louder students teases, “he has been telling us all about her since he came back to school.”

“He saw Hermione at the World Cup?” Draco asks incredulously, “she was surrounded by other fans.”

“You know her?” Another student asks, this time closer to his age than the others had been.

“Yes,” Draco explains even though he doesn’t want to, “I was friends with them last year, although we had a bit of a falling out.”

The students murmur apologies back at him, but Draco waves them off, moving the topic swiftly along. They sit together for dinner and then depart again after to their own rooms. 

Severus makes meaningful eye contact with him, a silent question about what he thinks of Durmstrang. Draco merely shakes his head in response, rolling his eyes at Severus’s query. He knows that he’s just being overprotective, he knows that he would prefer to send Draco to the ‘safe’ school, but he’s not going to leave Hogwarts just because there are a few radical light students, or because he had a fight with his friends.

He’s going to stay here, it’s where his family is.

——

There has been a certain level of chaos as people scramble to break the Age Line. Of course, the older students who actually want to get through do so easily, waltzing across the little circle on the ground. Some hesitate just slightly, scared the magic will backfire, but it hasn’t yet.

Of course, there are people who aren’t of age that want to have a go as well. As soon as the first cocky Gryffindor tries to stroll through and gets pushed back the school alights in gossip. He’s seen paper planes fly over the Great Hall and just miss the edge of the cup, a few screwed up balls bouncing harmlessly off the edge. Someone levitates a Hufflepuff up and over the cup, but it seems the Age Line extends upwards forever. 

The most memorable is the Weasley twins. He’s not sure what they’ve done but when they try the line pushes them back and leaves them with beards to rival Dumbledores. They leave laughing, hobbling away with a thousand jokes about growing old. 

That night they pick the names out of the cup, scrubbing away the Age Line so it doesn’t interfere. A Ravenclaw takes a shot as soon as the Line is gone, but their aim is terrible and the paper doesn’t even get close. 

Dumbledore simply smiles and brushes the paper away with his shoe. He makes a grand speech about schools and unity but Draco knows he’s aware people are silently begging him to just get on with it. 

The speech closes, and the Cup’s fire sprays up and out like the beginning of a firework. It grows bigger and bigger, and then spits out a piece of paper at a time.

From Beauxbatons, a girl named Fleur is chosen, she glides up to the front of the hall and does a curtsy as she arrives. From Durmstrang is Victor Krum, to absolutely no ones surprise. He still blushes slightly as he gets up though, pride written along his features. The Hogwarts champion is a fellow quidditch player, a Hufflepuff named Cedric who cheers as his name is called. Draco applauds him politely, excited that his school is being represented well. 

The champions are gathered together at the front when the Cup sparks once more, another paper falling gently and being snatched out of the air by Dumbledore.

“Harry Potter?” The headmaster calls and the room is silent. Harry slowly stands and makes his way up, a little shaky, but still walking forward. There’s a rushed conversation between him and the Headmaster, and then he joins the champions at the front.

“Let us congratulate our champions!” Dumbledore announces. The following applause is hesitant, and when they're led away for interviews the hall erupts in chatter and whispers. Draco doesn’t see Harry for the rest of the feast. 

——

Draco’s worn some more fashionable robes for the first task. He’s dressed neatly in dark green, almost navy, robes, with a sweet white trim. As a show of support, he’s donned a little Hogwarts pin on his breast, for both of the champions down in the arena. 

He’s also donning a tiny Durmstrang badge, nestled just under the Hogwarts one. A student had come up to him and nervously handed it over. Draco knows he’s intimidating sometimes, (it’s all in the cheekbones,) but he wasn’t trying to be, and the boy was a year or two older than him anyway. When he told Pansy she just laughed at him, a giggle that turned into a full-body guffaw as he retold the shaking hands and flushed face. 

Anyway, Draco is dressed to the nines, excited for the drama about to unfold. His interest only increases when he realises that the first task is dragons! He had a phase with them a few years ago, but any endangered mythical creature has always piqued his interest. He wonders vaguely if one of them is Norbert.

He finds out very soon that none of them are Norbert. Instead, he watches in awe as Krum uses a curse to take down the Chinese Fireball, as Fleur casts a quick sleeping charm on her Welsh Green and Cedric sneaks around the Swedish Short-Snout. (Yes, Draco knows each species, he still has picture books at home that outline the differences in cartoonish drawings.)

Then Harry comes out, and Draco is not nervous for him, no way! He faces off against Hungarian Horntail, and Draco gets to see how much smaller he is in comparison to the other champions. He watches breathlessly as Harry summons a broom and then promptly flies off, the dragon following close behind. For most of the challenge, they can’t see him. Sure, they know where he is because there is a massive lizard trailing after him, but he looks like a speck against the backdrop of the looming castle and one of the most aggressive dragon species there is. 

Draco’s breath catches in his throat as Harry does a risky manoeuvre, heading straight down as if to hit the ground. He survives though, miraculously, and manages to snag up the egg and escape the Dragon’s grasp. The crowd cheers and Draco manages to unfreeze his limbs in time to join in the applause. 

The scores are presented to them all, Dumbledore’s sticking out like a sore thumb in the middle, but ultimately the Champions leave with their eggs, and the crowd disperses. 

“What have you got against Beauxbatons?” Pansy asks as they make their way down the stairs.

“Hmm?” Draco questions, adjusting his robe as someone knocks into him.

“You aren’t wearing a Beauxbatons badge,” she tells him, tapping against his chest.

“I don’t have one,” Draco tells her right back, “what, do you happen to have one lying around?”

“We could just make them,” Pansy throws out, “so you can change them to whomever you support.”

“Just let people write anything on a badge?” Draco questions, “that’s a lot of charms work.”

“I was never very good at charms,” Pansy lies, and Draco sighs, already knowing this project will fall squarely on his shoulders.

——

Victor Krum is larger up close. Draco had assumed, being a fellow seeker, that he would be a little shorter and a little thinner, but neither of these facts are true. It might be the furs, but Draco is honestly a little intimidated by the Bulgarian champion.

At first, Draco thinks this is about the badges. He hasn’t been able to put them out at fast as he would like as Crabbe and Goyle keep dragging him away from his work as soon as it hits midnight. ‘We’re meant to protect you from all threats,’ they tell him, ‘including sleep deprivation.’

He also knows that some people have been abusing the badges, writing little nasty messages on them. His favourite (or least favourite, depending on how you look at it) has been a ‘Potter Stinks!’ that’s been going around. As if that’s the worst they could come up with, surely finding an insult that starts with the same letter would be better. It’s not surprising the insult is soft, as it seems to have originated from a few vengeful Hufflepuffs, upset at the split in the Hogwarts support base.

Krum however, does not ask about the badges. 

“Hello,” he greets, nodding at Goyle and Crabbe but turning his attention to Draco, “I have a question for you, I heard you know Hermy-own.”

“Hermione?” Draco questions, trying to decipher the thick accent, “yes, I knew her last year, but unfortunately we haven’t been close since then.” 

“I want to ask her to the Yule Ball,” Krum tells him, shifting on his feet, “I want to get her a gift, I thought you might know what she likes.”

“Oh,” Draco breathes, wracking his brain, “she enjoys reading, as I’m sure you know. Maybe a book on history, she already has Hogwarts: A History, so don’t give her that.”

“Will she like Durmstrang: In the Making?” Krum perks up, “I have an antique copy she can have.”

Draco cocks his head to the side in the thought, “yes, I believe she will. Just make sure she knows it’s for her, not because you think she needs to know about it.”

“Of course,” Krum grins, “thank you, Draco.” He says Draco just to the left of how others do like there’s an invisible ‘h’ at the end.

“My pleasure,” Draco tells him, preening under the attention.

“And,” Krum adds, “I was wondering if you had any of those badges. I would like one!”

Draco hands one from his pocket over, taking him through the simple way to change the words, and mentally doing the maths on how many more he’ll need to produce for Krum’s friends. He realises it’ll take too long, and he might have to find a way around Crabbe and Goyle for the night.

——

Draco collects Pansy from her room like a true gentleman, both of them matching in striking robes. They’ve gone more muted, the colours are deep, but they both chose enchanted embroidery around the edges which sparkle and shimmer to accentuate their movement. They’ve gone for a more unisex design, although there are clearly some more feminine elements on Pansy and some more masculine ones on Draco. 

Severus smiles at them both when they enter, fabric swishing at his feet. He’s wearing black as usual, not even a ball can pull him out of it. He’s monitoring the refreshments, glaring at any student holding anything suspiciously flask-shaped. 

McGonagal starts the Ball with a bang, letting the champions sweep their dates around the room to an upbeat waltz. Draco is pleased to see his advice worked, and Krum is dancing with Hermione, who’s wearing a beautiful blue dress, that looks almost pink when the light hits it just so. Cedric is holding onto Cho, both of them in a mixture of blue and yellow that should be headache-inducing but actually comes off as classy and fun. Fleur has managed to scoop up someone Draco doesn’t know, but both of them look beautiful, twirling around in perfect harmony.

Harry and Parvati are dancing together, in a dashing mix of orange and pinks that Draco will readily admit suits them both. They’re a bit stilted in their dancing, but seem to be having fun, even as Harry steps on Parvati for the second time. 

When everyone else can enter the dance floor, Draco drags Pansy over, helping her through the crowd so they do a few songs together. He manages to spot Neville awkwardly twirling with Ginny, as well as Ron scowling in the corner. 

Draco and Pansy eventually let their tired feet carry them to the refreshment table, both snagging a few quick bites for themselves, and settling into gossip. He watches as Crabbe and Goyle decide to dance with each other, the lead swapping every three seconds as they fight over the moves. Millicent has roped Theo and Blaise into spinning with her on the dance floor, the three of them almost toppling over. 

Draco is giggling at them, watching as they stagger together, when someone bumps into his elbow.

“Sorry,” they mumble, and Draco turns to wave them off, but then he sees Harry. They haven’t been this close since last year, always at a distance. His mouth hangs open, shock running through his system. Harry makes a move as if to grab him or talk to him, but Draco runs off. 

He dashes through the crowd and out the door, taking a second to just breathe in the hallway. He can hear Harry running out after him, and turns to see him stop a few feet away.

“Draco,” Harry calls softly, “I don’t hate you.”

“I don’t hate you either,” Draco returns, lifting his chin.

“And, I’m not scared of you,” Harry breathes in shakily, turning his head away as if preparing to be rebuffed.

“I didn’t expect you to be,” Draco lets his tone soften.

“And, I don’t care about what happened before we met,” Harry rushes, his voice cracking, “I still really want to be friends with you.”

Draco takes a breath, “I want to be friends with you too,” he admits. 

“Well,” Harry sniffs, “that’s good right?”

“Yeah,” Draco feel tears in his eyes, “I’ve been a horrible friend, haven’t I?”

“You had a lot to think about, we both did,” Harry assures, “besides, Ron was worse when my name got called. Kept arguing with me until I got the paper and showed him it wasn’t my handwriting. You needing space doesn’t even come close,” Harry sparks a laugh out of Draco, and they reach for each other. 

Draco rubs at his eyes, “I’m going to ruin my robes,” he complains. 

“Your robes are very pretty,” Harry tells him, pulling him into a one-armed hug, “it would be a shame if you ruined them.”

“Yeah,” Draco murmurs, finally rubbing the last tears off his face.

“Do you want to go back in?” Harry asks gently, “I’m sure Pansy is missing you.”

“Oh, she’s probably already grabbed Theo,” Draco waves off, “but, yes. I wouldn’t mind heading back in. If you’re sure you want to be seen with me.”

“Why wouldn’t I be? I already told you I don’t care about what your parents did to mine, or what my parents did to yours,” Harry clenches his fist and shakes his head as if to clear it, “I think it’s a bit rubbish if we have to follow whatever our parents did, don’t you?”

Draco thinks about the family portrait in the manor, about being raised in an ancestral home without any of his true ancestry, about worrying every day that he might be letting them down. He thinks about meeting Harry, about learning more about his parents through the walls of Hogwarts, about growing up with people that aren’t his true family and still turning out okay, and he cracks a smile.

“I guess, we can be a bit different,” he allows, letting Harry take his hand and squeeze it.

“Well, c’mon,” Harry urges, leading Draco back into the hall, “I’m sure Hermione has missed her study buddy, and no one wants to play chess with Ron anymore.”

“He’s cheating, and I will stand by that,” Draco mutters darkly, making Harry laugh as they push open the Great Hall doors. He meets Pansy’s eyes first, and they smile at each other. She has indeed grabbed Theo, and both head out to dance as soon as they see him come back. He can’t find Crabbe and Goyle but he’s sure they see him, and Blaise and Millicent are having too much fun dancing to even have noticed his disappearance.

Harry leads him to Hermione, Ron and Krum, who all look to them as they approach.

“Are we friends again?” Hermione asks.

“I think we are,” Harry says, looking to Draco. He gets a smile in return and a small nod.

“Oh, good,” Hermione says, before leaping onto Draco and hugging him close. Draco returns it on pure instinct, clinging to her as he almost topples over. Ron comes over to pat him on the back, and Harry is a supportive weight against his back.

Later in the night, when students have retired, Draco sits on one of the couches that have been pushed in. Harry, Ron, and Hermione are sitting with him. Even Krum has hung back for a few extra minutes, he celebrates the return of the friendship group but ultimately leaves them after pecking Hermione on the cheek as a goodnight.

Draco lets himself just absorb their presence, listening as they chat around him and adding in every now and again. He gently rests his head on Harry’s shoulder, happy to be part of their group again, and lets himself drift until the teachers escort them to bed.

——

The Second task is more nerve-racking than the first, mainly because Draco was part of the planning process and now he knows what’s going on. They only truly figured out the clue a few days ago, and so they hadn’t been able to prepare as much as Draco and Hermione had hoped.

Draco had gone out looking for them this morning, hoping to run over the plan once more, or at least just wish them luck, but he couldn’t find any of them. He had asked around but no one had seen them, any of them. Harry has probably been preparing, but Ron and Hermione should have been hanging around the common room. 

His nerves are shot by the time they announce the first task, and then it only gets worse. Instead of things, the judges had the great idea to dump the person they cared about most into the lake. Suddenly, there were more people in danger, and there was a higher risk of death.

He could see from the stands the anger and fear running through the champions as they dove into the water, each one choosing a slightly different way in. Draco sits back in his chair as he realises that they have no idea what’s going on below the water. There’s no way of knowing if they all drowned straight away, or if they’re close to getting the people back. 

After almost forty-five minutes of expectant silence, Cedric breaks free from the water, struggling to drag Cho up to land. Minutes later Krum appears, cradling Hermione and panting from exertion.

The next fifteen minutes pass in tense silence before suddenly Fleur bursts through the still water of the lake. She struggles to shore and then collapses, releasing a wail that rocks through the stands. She lays there, sobbing, and everyone is silent. 

Harry breaches the water with barely a minute on the clock, looking ready to collapse but dragging something onto the beach anyway. Draco makes out a shock of red hair, and then surprisingly another smaller figure. There’s a conversation down on the ground, Harry reaching over to Fleur who flings herself up and runs over to her sister, both of them crying.

Dumbledore stands and starts to applaud them, his claps ringing out like bombs throughout the field. A smattering of students join in, and then eventually the whole crowd. It’s a congratulation towards the champions, but there’s a rumble that everyone feels. This has crossed a line further than the previous one did, they put people in danger who didn’t even sign up. Everyone is wondering who’s next.

Draco rushes through the crowd when they disperse, pushing his way to the beach and running to his friends.

“Are you okay?” He asks frantically, spelling them dry with a quick snap of his wand.

“Yeah,” Harry replies, “I got them all out in time.”

“Thank goodness for that,” Draco murmurs, “I don’t think you should be a part of this anymore, can’t you call it off?”

“There’s a contract,” Hermione tells him, stumbling ever so slightly, “I don’t think anyone can back out once their name is chosen.”

“That’s horrendous,” Draco hisses, “the least they can do is put safety guards in place!”

“I know mate,” Ron butts in, leaning heavily on Harry, “but there’s not much we can do.”

Draco thinks of telling them about Marvolo’s plan, safety and security for all wizarding children, but decides against it. Instead, he guides them all to Madame Pomfrey and writes a very angry letter back home. 

——

“Hermione!” Pansy calls, during a potion class, “have you read this?” She’s waving the newest copy of Witch Weekly, delivered to her every Tuesday morning. She’s brought it as light during while Draco cuts up the potions ingredients. It’s not that she’s lazy, it's just that she knows Draco will get prissy if she does it even the slightest bit wrong.

“I don’t read gossip,” Hermione murmurs, head bent over her own cauldron.

“Stir clockwise,” Draco and Professor Snape tell her in almost perfect unison, both taking notice of her technique.

“It says here,” Pansy reads, “‘Hermione is stringing along both champion Victor Krum and boy-who-lived Harry Potter, but do these boys know?’”

“Hermione how could you?” Harry gasps, placing a hand to his chest in mock offence, also stirring in the wrong direction, “have you told Krum yet?”

Hermione huffs, alternating her stirring technique and reaching out to move Harry’s hand in unison with hers, “that Rita has been writing slander about Harry since he was chosen, I’m surprised it’s taken her this long to move onto me.”

“Watch out Ron,” Draco murmurs, “you’ll be next. I wonder what horrid tryst you could be hiding up your sleeve?”

“Hopefully she’ll have moved on before she gets that desperate,” Ron snarks.

Pansy sighs, waving her magazine again, “but Hermione, you have to explain this to Krum before he gets the wrong idea. You may not put stock in gossip, but it is valuable currency in some houses.”

“Krum won’t care,” Hermione deflects, “besides, the people who need to know the truth already know it. I’m not going to try and refute it, because then people will just believe it more.”

“Besides,” Draco throws in lightly, “I’m surprised she didn’t write about Harry and Ron’s secret love, the second task was all about them.”

Harry and Ron splutter, shaking their heads and hands frantically. “Mate, we’re like brothers,” Ron says, voice rough.

“No offence, but I don’t think of you that way,” Harry tells him, blush high on his cheeks.

“None taken,” Ron replies, then stops and just looks at him, “but you know I support you if you…you know.”

“Oh yeah sure,” Harry says frantically, “And ah, same thing, to you.”

“Yeah.”

“Great.”

“Before anyone decides to embarrass themselves any further,” Severus pipes up, “you have ten minutes before a sample must be ready and you have to begin cleaning up.”

When Draco hands in his work with Pansy, he receives one of the highest marks in the class, and he makes her wash the cauldron. 

——

Draco looks down at the massive field, transformed into a maze that towers above the champions. They’ve been drilling Harry in offensive spells and defensive spells as preparation, not quite sure what he was going to face. The champions huddle together at the entrance, trying to see a way in. A view from the top isn’t much better, Draco can barely see anything inside the maze, the hedges coming up too high and the pathway in between too narrow.

Cedric and Harry run in first, both of them tied for first place. The other champions watch them go, waiting for their chance. Draco can spot flashes of them as they navigate the maze, going around obstacles or through corridors. He notices when Krum and Fleur are allowed in, but his entire attention is focused on tracking Harry through the maze. He’s losing him more often now that he’s in the thick of it, constantly have to readjust his eyes to catch a glimpse of him.

Harry is similarly confused. He feels terribly lonely in the maze, anything moving most likely a threat. He comes across a sphinx but doesn’t even bother answering the riddle, instead continuing on down a different path. He runs past massive magical beasts but doesn’t stop, instead deciding that evasive measures would be beneficial. 

He stops when he hears a scream though, Fleur’s he assumes. He back-pedals rapidly, hearing the crunching of whatever is coming and deciding not to risk it. He knows the teachers will be coming. 

He spends another five minutes wandering around blindly before he hears Cedric being attacked. It’s closer this time, and the attacker sounds distinctly human. Harry steels his nerve and runs forward, turning the corner with his wand out.

Krum is there, casting crucio on Cedric. Harry shoots out a stupefy, watching as Krum falls to the ground.

“Are you okay?” Harry asks, reaching a hand out to help Cedric up.

“Yeah,” Cedric mutters, “I’m okay. I don’t think he is though,” he motions to Krum laying on the ground. Harry thinks for a second, then points his wand straight up and lets out red sparks.

“A teacher will come and get him,” Harry assures, “in the meantime, we can get the cup.”

“It’s just over there, two right turns and you’re there,” Cedric says, “I was so close when Krum snuck up on me.”

“Let’s go, and end this,” Harry mutters, grabbing Cedric’s hand as they make their way through the last two corners. They keep an eye out for anything, but nothing is there to try and stop them. Finally, after the long minutes, Harry has spent searching, he sees the Cup in front of him. He breathes a sigh of relief, coming to a stop within grabbing distance.

“You deserve it,” Cedric blurts, “you should take it.”

“No,” Harry scoffs, “I’m not even a proper champion. It’s yours, fair and square.”

“What if we take it at the same time?” Cedric suggests, nodding at the cup, “then we both win.”

“Sure,” Harry allows, “yeah, we can try that. But if it comes down to it, I’m letting you have the win.”

“I can live with that,” Cedric tells him, grinning. They reach out together, each mirroring the actions of the other. Then, as Harry brushes the cup and begins to grab it, Cedric snatches his hand back, smiling triumphantly. It’s the last thing Harry sees before the world is whisked away.

Harry lands on his back. The sky is dark above him, and he takes a second to roll onto his front and stand to run. A few spells are aimed at him, thankfully dark reds and blacks rather than green.

“Halt,” a voice commands and Harry peaks out from the rock he’s hidden behind. He sees people in masks and robes, exactly like the ones at the Quidditch Cup, and he swallows thickly. The leading man isn’t wearing a mask, but his eyes are deep red. He’s holding himself confidently, triumphantly. He spots Harry peaking out and grins.

“My Lord,” a man interrupts, and Harry is seething when he sees Peter Pettigrew.

“Fetch me the boy, alive,” the leader hisses. A few death eaters rush forward, managing to surround him and freeze him. They bring him before the leader, Harry now able to see that they are in a graveyard somewhere.

“My Lord,” Peter repeats, “what do you want us to do with him?”

“Hand me the knife,” the leader responds, and Peter does so, sniffing miserably. “Harry Potter,” the leader begins, “today we gather to break the prophecy. I won’t have to bow down to the fates, today I become with you as you become with me. One being, that neither can destroy.” He lifts the knife and slashes down on to Peter. Then, with the man dying on the ground, he turns his attention to Harry.

——

Draco is one of the first out of the stalls and down to the ground when the Cup disappears along with Harry. He runs down and stands anxiously near the entrance to the maze with a bustling crowd of other students. The other champions have been rescued, most crying in some form or another. Cedric is telling Dumbledore everything that happened, trying to help him make sense of the magic that they saw.

Then, in a flash and a bang, Harry reappears. He’s gripping the cup desperately, shaking like a leaf. Cedric, along with the rest of the crowd, gasp in surprise. They are only held back by the teachers and elder students as Dumbledore rushes to Harry’s side. 

“He’s back,” he mutters, looking up at Dumbledore frantically, “Voldemort is back!”

His forehead is bleeding from a cut in the shape of a lightning bolt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, I hope you enjoyed. Hey, twist there at the end! Whoo, drama, excitement, what’s going to happen next? (also known as, I realised I accidentally didn’t have one of the major elements of the Harry Potter series and tried to rectify that, so uh, now Harry actually is marked as an equal (and a horcrux in case I did not make that clear.)) I have a quick note, or two, feel free to skip them if you want.
> 
> Firstly, as for Draco x Harry, there may be some. I am a Drarry shipper but I’ve been trying to keep it mostly platonic for this fic, however I am open to writing it in, maybe in later years. Another semi-related thing is I know sometimes ethnic backgrounds can become a big part in fics. I don’t want to do it wrong, so I’m leaving most up to your interpretation. Imagine anyone as anything I really do not mind, and I probably won’t be writing super specific descriptions. (For example, I was imagining Harry and Parvati in more traditionally Indian dress, however I just left it at colours so you can keep whatever you want in your mind.) If you prefer my opinion, I'm imagining everyone as diverse as possible.
> 
> Secondly, Voldemort is 100% giving Draco a form of propaganda right now. He’s not being completely truthful, even if he is adding elements of truth. Draco’s worldview is being skewed, as are most of the kids depending on their backgrounds. This is because it makes it easier for me to write them as sympathetic even if they aren’t, but also because naturally the adults are going to try and keep people on their side, and for Voldemort this is especially important with Draco. 
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading, and have a great day!


	19. fifth year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The year of the DA, Umbridge, and a bunch of family arguments.

The atmosphere around the manor is tense. It has been since the end of Draco’s fourth year. Arguments would strike up in random places, some of the largest involving Draco actually raising his voice at Marvolo in a way he hadn’t done since his tantrums at three. They had revolved around Harry, the unnecessary harm which Marvolo had done to one of his closest friends. Marvolo had rebutted that this was necessary if he didn’t want further harm to come to his friends. They had cycled around each other until a tentative truce was met, with Draco still having the right to be angry but having to concede that he didn’t want them hurt anymore. As long as no one mentioned it, everything was fine.

They had resolved mostly, but then Severus must have started something as well because whenever they’re in a room together Draco can feel the tenseness between them. Severus sometimes disappears too, for hours at a time, or even overnight. Draco doesn’t know what’s going on, the only comfort he has is that he can still feel Severus, can still feel the pull of his magic wherever he goes. He doesn’t ask him, and he doesn’t ask Marvolo either. 

It doesn’t help that Marvolo is already hiding things from him. He’s not told anything about the Death Eaters meetings, most of the time he doesn’t even know they’re going on until he accidentally stumbles across some of them leaving.

He entertains himself with games and books, some schoolwork in between in preparation for his OWLS (he and Hermione are both insistent on preparing early), and every morning he will scan over the newspaper. He pretends he doesn’t see Marvolo carefully remove an article each day when he can catch the headline it’s something to do with Death Eaters. One morning the article is gone but it’s listing on the front page isn’t, and Draco can clearly see it’s a report on the dastardly activities of what the ministry believes is Sirius Black. Draco knows a lot of this stuff is Death Eaters, but the ministry doesn’t know that. Voldemort knows he knows, which is why he removes them, stops Draco from reading the details. He says it's because the article is completely wrong and terribly misleading, and Draco completely agrees. From the other bits and pieces he reads accidentally he can tell the Ministry has gone completely mad. He wouldn’t be surprised if they were exaggerating all the damage to try and stir up trouble.

What hammers this home is that one day when Draco skims through the articles he notices a small one, it’s only a paragraph like the Daily didn’t want to publish it, but it details Harry Potter’s expulsion for magic in front of muggles. Over the next few days, he eagerly scoops up the Daily when it lands on the table, hoping to find any other mention of Harry’s trial. They are only bits and pieces scattered throughout the Prophet, and Draco actually clips them out to try and put it all together in a way that makes sense. When the trial happens Draco eagerly asks Marvolo to buy the special copy with the trial transcript. They read it together, almost laughing at the Ministry’s continued foolishness. He keeps the special edition on the bookcase in his room, folded up carefully and pressed gently between two old school books.

He opens his mail one day, seeing the usual letters (Pansy sending him a new belt she doesn’t want anymore, Theo returning one book and asking for the next in the series and Crabbe sending him a cake that’s too smushed to eat), and he sees another package. There’s a Hogwarts logo planted on it in wax, and Draco carefully breaks the seal and unravels the paper. As he opens the letter a badge falls out, clattering to the floor and he scrambles to pick it up. 

He finds it under the table, glinting innocently even as he can see the letter P spelled on it. He almost squeals, picking the badge up and pinning it to his breast. Severus smiles when he sees it, and Marvolo congratulates him. It’s official, this year is going to be amazing! 

——

After the train ride, which was mostly Draco’s Slytherin friends all unwinding and making fun of the ministry, Draco runs out to find Harry. He looks okay, though Draco knows feelings can be hidden further than anticipated, but he hugs him anyway.

“Hi Harry,” he greets, unwrapping his arms and balancing them back out again.

“Draco,” Harry returns, smiling, “how’s your break been?”

“Not as eventful as yours,” Draco teases, “I heard you got expelled!”

Harry shakes his head, “it was so stupid, Dumbledore helped me smooth it out. I’m not expelled anymore.”

“Yeah,” Ron pipes out, “not getting rid of him yet.” He reaches over to ruffle Harry’s hair. It’s easier for him now, having just grown enough to be taller. With the new height difference, Draco can see clearly the pin on his robes.

“Congratulations on getting Prefect,” Draco says, “I got the position too.”

“Hermione and I got them over the holidays,” Ron admits, “I’m a bit shocked, to be honest.”

“I told him he’d do great,” Hermione offers, “but he doesn’t believe me.”

“You’ll do great,” Draco agrees, “we can do our prefect duties together if you're nervous.”

“Nervous?” Ron splutters as they follow the crowd until they get to the carriages. There are still a few hanging around they can jump into, but Harry looks worried.

“What are those?” He asks motioning at empty air, “puling the carriages.”

“Nothing is pulling the carriages,” Hermione says, exchanging a glance with Ron. Harry’s eyebrows draw together in confusion, still looking at empty air.

“You’re not crazy,” a voice offers, shocking them all into turning sharply, “I see them too.”

The group remain mostly silent with that revelation out of the way until suddenly Ron breaks the silence by hopping into a carriage and pulling Hermione with him. Harry helps Draco up the step when his shoe slips and the girl settles into a seat opposite them all.

“This is Loony-“ Hermione cuts herself off, “Luna Lovegood,” she finishes, watching Luna nervously.

“Lovely to meet you,” Draco offers, holding his hand.

Luna takes it with a dreamy smile, “we have the same hair,” she says. Draco nods, retracting his hand when she lets go and letting the carriage fall into silence. When they pull up to the Great Hall there’s an almost audible sigh of relief as they all rush out of the awkward silence.

The welcome feast isn’t all that different from previous years, where a new Defence teacher is announced (honestly, this is getting a little ridiculous, Draco thinks as he scans over the new Professor.) He does get a good laugh in when he sees Severus’ face as he’s forced to sit next to her. They clash terribly, and if he’s being honest that shade of pink doesn’t do her any favours. 

But then she opens her mouth and Draco is hit with the real problem. She’s a ministry plant, trying to keep an eye on Hogwarts. A Light agent coming in to stamp out any and all opposition. Denying Voldemort’s return is trying to get Voldemort supporters out of hiding so they can persecute them, and now she’s in the school, ready to strike at a moments notice. 

Draco feels almost cowed, watching her make her speech about rules and the ‘old way’, like there is no benefit to change. He locks eyes with Severus, who has schooled his features to give nothing away, and that is perhaps more worrying. Will he have to hide further now? Is this what it will be like, with the war? 

The feast starts to taste cold in his mouth, and the lights are too bright. He feels exposed, flayed, and avoids looking at Umbridge for the rest of the meal.

——

Learning that the new Defence course is purely theory only worries Draco further. She insists that there is no need for defensive spells (which is untrue, even if there wasn’t a war on the horizon. What does she suggest they do if a thief breaks in?) and she also seems to have memorised every piece of Ministry propaganda they ever produced. Her listens are boring, and making them rewrite passages to memorise them is a terrible teaching practice. Draco spends hours every night in the common room trying to help people memorise passages of the book that he knows will appear on the exam and be helped in return.

Umbridge only further earns his ire when he hears about Harry’s detention. The ministry has truly abandoned any and all sense if they are attacking Harry Potter, the boy who lived! It spreads through the school like wildfire, half supporting the detention and denouncing Harry’s lies, and the others standing up for him, citing his new scar and why would he lie with the ministry on his back?

He meets with the trio after Harry’s detention in the library, support poorly disguised behind a study session. Harry is pointing out something for the new Defence course when Hermione puts her book down.

“What’s that?” She asks, “on your hand?”

“Nothing,” Harry says quickly, pulling his sleeve down. 

Hermione grabs it, gently rolling the sleeve back up and gasping as she does. “Harry,” she breathes, “did she?”

“Had me writing lines,” Harry admits, and Draco finally gets a good look at what it is. On Harry’s hand are raised letter, no, carved letters. Like someone had taken a knife and carefully written out ‘I must not tell lies’. It’s in Harry’s handwriting.

“A blood quill?” Draco questions, wanting to reach out and soothe the wound.

“That’s highly illegal, she can’t get away with it,” Hermione seethes.

“If we tell someone-“

“They won’t care,” Harry cuts Ron off, “she’s from the ministry, she told me she’s allowed to do it.”

“This is archaic torture,” Draco stresses, “we have to tell someone!”

“Who would help?” Harry demands.

‘Voldemort,’ Draco almost says, barely holding his tongue even though he knows he’s right. The Dark stands for modernity, the banishment of old ways that don’t work and the input of a more flexible system, but they won’t understand.

“Dumbledore?” Ron says incredulously, “Shacklebolt, even. Or maybe parents?”

“And what will they do, against the ministry? Dumbledore is being watched, Shacklebolt works for the ministry and parents already said they support her,” Harry shoots back, tugging on his sleeve again.

“You don’t think parents knowing that she’s torturing people would change their minds?” Ron asks, “Because that sounds like a pretty good reason to change your mind.”

“Just drop it,” Harry mutters, “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“I’ll ask Severus for some pain potions,” Draco offers, “and some to stop the scarring.”

“Thanks,” Harry says genuinely, even as he ducks his head back into his book.

Draco chews on his lip as he carefully pens his Defence Essay, ensuring as many little mistakes as possible that won’t make him lose marks.

——

Umbridge only gets worse, if that’s at all possible. She gets appointed ‘High Inquisitor’ by the Ministry and spends any time not in class (and some time when she’s meant to be teaching) being a nuisance. She enlists Filch into hanging up Educational Decrees, most of which were barely to do with education. Draco can see through it though, can see her true motives. She’s trying to indoctrinate them all, control their every move in order to ensure they comply with Ministry rules. 

Educational Decree 26 forbade boys and girls from being within 6 inches, leaving the classrooms almost split down the middle and segregated, while Hermione is always a tad too separated in their study sessions.

Educational Decree 30 forbid any Weasley products, which provoked all the Weasley’s enough that they skipped Defence. When Umbridge finally tracked down Fred and George and demanded to know why they were skipping class they calmly explained how they, having been born by a Weasley, were products of a Weasley, and hence, were banned. She had the decree taken down and reworded by the end of the day and the twins got detention (being the masterminds of the whole Weasley clan skipping, apparently.)

There were decrees that banned toys, books, ones that made all students hand over their wands for testing and all letters for scanning. Draco couldn’t even write to Marvolo, too scared of being found out, worrying almost constantly that one day Umbridge would pull him out of class and arrest him. 

She even managed to pull Harry and Ron off their quidditch teams, for being troublesome she says. Then she goes around pulling other players for increasingly silly reasons. One day she drags a Hufflepuff beater off the team because they broke a Decree she hadn’t published yet. While Draco manages to avoid her mass cutbacks on the quidditch teams, by the end of it there’s barely anyone left to play and they all have to pull out of the games.

Then Umbridge started her Professor Examinations. She went around asking the Professor’s these absurd questions about their teaching, going back and forth while they were trying to teach. Draco didn’t personally witness them all but there were plenty of rumours. Apparently, Trelawney had received the worst of it, while McGonagall had snapped and told her off. 

Draco did see Snape’s examination and had to stifle every giggle as Severus carefully stepped around her questions and drawled his answers. He didn’t even seem ruffled by her questioning, and Umbridge left in a bit of a huff. As soon as the door closed behind her the classroom erupted in snickers and murmurs. Severus ignored them for once, a smile almost tugging at his lips.

But it doesn’t feel so funny when they all congregate outside to see Professor Trelawney being dismissed from her post by an unfeeling Professor Umbridge. It’s almost heartbreaking, watching the two professors in the courtyard as Trelawney practically begs to stay. The crowd watches on, silently judging, but no one brave enough to walk into the circle and confront them directly. 

McGonagall eventually takes a stand, coming forward to curl Trelawney in a hug and yell at Umbridge from where she stands. Umbridge still doesn’t move on her stance, simply continues her speech about incompetent teachers and making way for proper education. 

Out of nowhere, Dumbledore appears, pushing open the doors. He swoops in to steer the ladies back inside, leaving Umbridge outside with the students around her. No longer silent watchers, Draco can almost feel the aggressive tension, like someone will spring out at any moment and the entire student body will fall upon Umbridge like a swarm. Dumbledore calms them all by telling Umbridge that Trelawney will stay, even if not as a Professor, and practically shaming Umbridge back inside.

As the crowd disperses Harry rushes forward, and Draco loses sight of him as he runs off to find Dumbledore. Draco eventually returns to his common rooms but himself, watching as people start fretting. Everyone knows that this was a turning point, something about Hogwarts has changed on a fundamental level, and it’s not coming back until Umbridge is gone.

——

It’s a brilliant idea that Hermione comes up with. Making a study group so they can actually learn some defence. And she suggests Harry as the teacher.

“It’s a very practical idea,” Draco adds as Harry starts to object, “you know the most out of anyone, and you’ve seen the most danger.”

“But I’m not a teacher,” Harry objects.

“And that toad is?” Ron rebuts, “you’ll do worlds better than her.”

“Anyone would,” Harry says right back, “what about Cedric, we were both in the Tournament last year.”

“But he didn’t fight Voldemort,” Hermione adds, “that makes you more qualified.”

“No one will even come, they don’t trust me,” Harry tries, and Draco scoffs.

“As if, if they want to learn, they’ll come to learn. Doesn’t matter if the Dark Lord himself was teaching,” Draco objects, “don’t worry too much.”

So they set up a meeting, and together they go to Hogshead. Hermione says its to keep them mostly hidden, but Draco thinks she could have chosen a more upstanding store for that. Harry starts nervously but pulls it together enough to tell people to leave if they simply want him to admit he lies.

“He’s the bravest person I know, and I trust he’s telling the truth,” Cedric pipes up.

“Yeah, Harry fought in the Triwizard tournament last year, and he fought Voldemort,” Ron adds, nudging Harry’s arm.

“I had help for them, I’m not that-“

Hermione cuts him off, “he cast the Patronus Charm, a fully formed Patronus.”

“Fully formed?” Draco asks, “really? That’s an incredible feat of magic Harry. What is it, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“It’s a stag,” Harry admits, rubbing the back on his neck, “like my dad's was.”

With everyone sufficiently amazed with Harry’s experience and skill, they work on creating a name and a plan. They’re a study group, so any old classroom will do, but the name is more of a sticking point for many.

“If we call ourselves ‘Defence Study’, Umbridge will have our heads,” Cho objects, “we’ll need something better than that.”

“Maybe a less specific name,” a third-year pipes up, “like ‘miscellaneous club’.”

“A mysterious name, yeah,” Ron nods, “maybe, something like, Dumbledore’s Army! We are fighting against the ministry after all.”

“I don’t think so,” Draco manages to get out around the nervous ball in his throat, “we don’t want to make it sound like a war, and even if it was we shouldn’t be so blatant about who we support.” And I don’t want to support Dumbledore, Draco almost tells them, I’m not on the light side, I don’t want to be.

“We’re already in a war, Draco,” Harry protests, “it doesn’t matter if we call it that or not.”

“But calling ourselves Dumbledore’s Army puts a bullseye on our back,” Draco tries, almost desperate, “the ministry is already scared that he wants to overthrow them, and this will seem like a confirmation of that.”

“Only if we tell them,” Hermione adds, pulling out a piece of parchment, “we can shorten it to DA."

“You got a better idea?” Ron prods, “because I don’t know about you, but being the DA sounds pretty cool.”

Draco reluctantly shakes his head and watches as Hermione carefully pens in ‘Dumbledore’s Army’ at the top of the page and invites people to write their own names under the heading.

“I’ll owl you our first meet up, along with where,” Hermione explains as Cho signs her name neatly below Cedric’s, “It’ll probably be in an old classroom, maybe a Wednesday night?”

“That sounds great,” Cedric adds, watching as a nervous third year writes their name. Draco is the last to sign, an elegant scrawl along the bottom, with the tail of the ‘y’ being just a bit shakier than usual.

The next day Filch is hammering up Educational Decree 68, disbanding any student organisations. That afternoon Draco gets a letter from Hermione telling him in no uncertain terms that the names of people in the DA are to remain private, and that they will be going ahead in the Room of Requirement. It’s a very passive-aggressive letter, full of unspoken threats, and Draco feels proud for a second, it’s all wonderfully Slytherin.

Crabbe and Goyle come up to him concerned, worried about Draco breaking the rules and the consequences that might hurt him. 

“We’re meant to protect you,” Crabbe insists, “even from teachers.”

“Then you also have to protect me from getting caught,” Draco fires back. That stumps them, and it takes a second of thought before they decide Draco is right. He always is.

——

The first meeting they all come together outside a hallway, just milling about until Filch is out of sight. Then Hermione rushes across the wall and turns back to do it again, and then a third time. People are starting to shift in agitation when a door appears. Hermione pushes it open and helps usher people inside. The crowd moves forward quickly through the doorway and into the now revealed room.

It’s almost a hall, tall walls and a curved ceiling. There are lights hanging down, not floating candles but more stable lanterns. The walls are shiny, almost mirrors in sections, and Draco can’t help but watch the group through them, everyone rippling across the walls. Overall, it’s a dark room, but there is still enough light to work and learn. It’s an odd paradox, but it feels almost perfect.

“Where are we?” A third-year asks, “I’ve never seen this before.”

“This is the room of requirement,” Hermione explains, shoving Harry up onto a slightly raised platform, “it changes depending on what your needs are, and we needed a training room.”

“And it’s a secret!” Ron yells over the murmurs that have sprung up, “so no one tell Umbridge anything about this place or our meetings.”

“Yes thank you, Ron,” Hermione says, almost rolling her eyes.

Harry quickly tries to salvage the situation, shoving Hermione and Ron back a step so everyone’s eyes turn to him. He grips his wand harder, and swallows, visibly nervous, before deciding on what to say.

“We’re going to practice offensive and defensive spells, I think the simplest and best one to start with is expelliarmus, it’s good to end any fight you find yourself in. Disarm your opponent and they can’t hit you anymore,” Harry explains, moving on to show them the wand movements, easily using it against Ron and yanking the wand out of his hand. There’s an impressed air around the room as Harry splits them into groups of roughly the same skill level and sets them to work. 

Draco lets himself get folded in the more Slytherin sector, fully aware that while a few Gryffindors may allow him into their group, not all of them would be as welcoming. He and Pansy square off against each other, and when they feel sufficiently trained (when Pansy has decided she has definitively won,) they take a second to help some younger students who haven’t used magic properly before. He also has to remind Goyle and Crabbe to use expelliarmus only, as they’ve already moved on to complex spell work. It’s like his prefect role, he’s helping people learn, even if he isn’t able to give them points for a job well done.

Harry is roaming around too, taking a second to correct postures or give encouragements. He gradually makes his way around, eventually coming over to the Slytherin corner. A few were shifting, mostly trying to perfect the sloppy stance they had fallen into. Harry goes around them as he did the other houses, taking a second to stop and smile at Draco, waving at him. Draco waves back, feeling ridiculous, and turns to help another student. By the time he turns back, Harry has already hurried over to a student who’s fallen over.

The lesson goes well, and everyone leaves a bit stronger than before. Hermione seems in high spirits too.

“That went well,” she hums, “everyone was paying attention, putting in effort,” a smirk crosses her face, “and Cho couldn’t take her eyes off you, Harry.”

“What?” Harry asks.

“She’s dating Cedric,” Draco reminds them all sharply, “she shouldn’t be looking at anybody else.” It makes his gut twist uncomfortably because Cho is already dating someone, why would she look elsewhere?

“Yeah,” Ron says, sounding confused, “she was mostly looking at Cedric. I think she only wanted to check her stance.”

“That makes much more sense,” Draco agrees.

“That was probably it,” Hermione says in the exact same tone Pansy uses when she knows something he doesn’t. Draco watches her for another split second but lets the issue drop.

——

“So what do you think?” Draco asks, holding out a pamphlet from the pile posted outside of the Defence Classroom. It’s a sickening shade of pink, with yellow lettering to only further his headache, but it’s important.

“I think it sucks,” Ron says, tapping the pamphlet aggressively, “she’s trying to abuse her power, and trying to replace prefects.”

“They have more power than prefects,” Hermione adds, “she’s putting her Inquisitorial Squad above prefects on purpose.”

“Yes, we already know she’s power-hungry,” Draco huffs, “but do you think one of us should join it?”

“What? You want to be her puppet?” Ron asks, grabbing the apple from Draco’s snacks and biting into it. Honestly, he brought his own food to their little picnic but decides to take Draco’s favourite?

“No,” Draco hisses, “but it might be helpful if we have an insider.”

Harry slides over his apple, and in appreciation, Draco picks out the Treacle Tart he had saved to hand back over. “I worry she’d know, I don’t want to put any of the DA in that position,” Harry admits, “who knows what she might do.” The scar on Harry’s hand is still visible in certain lights, but they all avert their eyes respectfully even though they think of it.

“She won’t hurt one of her own,” Draco tries, “right?”

“She’s crazy,” Ron huffs, apple already halfway finished, “only cares about herself and protecting the ministry.”

“I don’t want to risk it,” Harry repeats, “it’s better to keep our heads down, but it’s nice you were willing to put yourself on the line like that.”

“Well,” Draco sniffs, “you three wouldn’t have the pureblood knowledge to successfully blend in.” He lifts his nose like it’s an insult, only to have Harry reach over and ruffle his hair. He squawks, trying to protect his head. Ron joins in a second later, tugging on the green ribbon keeping his hair respectfully off his face. 

He retaliates by trying to smooth Harry’s hair down and then moving on to Ron’s, trying to style it into a mohawk. Hermione eventually joins the fraying, joining in on the mohawk effort, much to Ron’s chagrin, and they all end up in a giggling pile, hair flying everywhere.

It’s nice, it’s wonderful, and even Umbridge’s shadow can’t ruin this moment. 

——

They’ve been working on mostly offensive spells, though Harry lets their last true lesson before break be a fun free for all. They play multiple games, some people (Theo, and whoever he thinks is worthy mainly,) doing duels to find a winner, while the rest play tails or tag. There are allowed any spells, as long as they don’t cause damage, and it’s a fun way to finish of the semester. 

Draco gets splattered with blue from behind in a game of tag but manages to redeem himself by keeping others away from his treasure pile in their game of Aurors and Criminals, even getting a good hit on Ron when he decides to go after it.

Eventually, the study group ends, and most leave in groups. They have to sneak past Filch, but they’ve figured out a routine by now so Harry doesn’t have to lead them all out. He stays behind for a second, gathering up a few things students had left behind. It’s never a lot, but there’s at least one thing from Neville every time.

Draco takes a second to wait for him, so they’re at least in a group if Umbridge or her underlings happen to walk by. There’s not much, only Neville’s outer robe, so Harry folds in under his arm and prepares to leave. He comes up to Draco, and they knock arms.

Draco laughs, high spirited form the fun afternoon and knocks him back. He tilts his head just so as the giggles escape him and sees a sprig of mistletoe growing over their heads.

“Well,” Harry says, noticing it too, “I guess we have to, uh.”

“Oh,” Draco breathes, “only if you’re okay with it.”

“Only if you are,” Harry returns, finally breaking his staring contest with the plant. Draco nods ever so slightly, and then cautiously presses his lips to Harry’s. It’s a peck really, awkward and stilted, but it’s still nice.

They both pull apart and just look at each other, then burst out laughing all over again. They’re both blushing madly, and as they leave they have to muffle their giggles for fear of Filch hearing. It’s a weighted moment for both of them, important but not regretted. 

Hermione just grins when Harry tells her, and Ron awkwardly shuffles in his seat. “As long as you’re happy,” Ron says.

And he is, they’re both happy.

——

Harry is dreaming, he knows this. He’s fallen asleep in his bed, and now he’s not in his bed but he’s awake. So, this is a dream. 

He’s instead in a chamber, not unlike the Chamber of Secrets in shape, although the detailing is completely different. In front of him lay a tangle of strings, hovering gently in the air. There are quite a few silver strings coming from it, looking almost black in the dim light. There’s another though, a bright gold one. It’s frayed almost to the point of breaking, but it’s hanging on.

He walks over to it, and as he gets closer he can almost hear a child laughing. The string feels warm and calming, but he’s scared that touching it will cause it to break. He knows it’s fragile, and its colour alone makes him think it’s important. 

Then, to the left of him, he hears a hiss and a scream. He jolts backwards, and as he runs towards the noise he realises he’s following one of the silver strings. He rests his hand on it to help lead him and immediately the scenery changes. Instead of being himself in a room, he’s somewhere else, down a dark corridor and attacking Mr Weasley.

He wants to stop, but at the same time, he doesn’t. He feels okay with his actions even though he also feels terrified. He awakens shaking, and he knows down to his core that what he saw was real. This feeling takes him all the way to McGonagall, who takes him to Dumbledore. They send out a portrait to raise the alarm and Dumbledore tells him Mr Weasley was attacked, but he’ll be okay.

“How did you know?” Dumbledore asks gently, settling down next to Harry on the conjured couch.

“I just, I dreamt it I guess,” Harry admits, “but it felt so real.”

Dumbledore glances at Harry’s scar for a second, a worried frown appearing on his face, “well, I’m glad you did, otherwise, tonight may have ended in tragedy.”

He doesn’t look glad though, and a few weeks later Harry finds himself in his first Occlumency lesson with Snape. No one wants to explain to him what happened, and he’s so worried that it was somehow him that attacked Mr Weasley. His suspicion is shot down abruptly by Ginny one day though, who simply scoffs.

“You’d know if the Dark Lord possessed you,” she says, “it sounds more like you’ve got a talent for Divination.”

“Oh,” Hermione says, “no, divination isn’t real, Ginny,” which promptly throws the Gryffindor common room into a heated debate. The one thing they can all agree on is that Harry isn’t being possessed, and Mr Weasley’s attack wasn’t his fault in any way.

——

Harry spends Christmas with the Weasley’s, celebrating Mr Weasley’s good health. They gather round him at the dining table, sharing stories and smiles until they forget the horrible ordeal. They pass around presents, everyone getting their signature Weasley sweaters. Harry pulls his on excitedly, noting Hermione do the same. It’s always a bit of a novelty that he’s so accepted by them, even though it happens every year.

It’s also nice because it means he gets to hang around Sirius. Every day with him he’s learning more about his parents, about his heritage, about his past, everything slotting into place to help him build up himself. He’s not basing himself around his dad, he’s not, but it’s nice to hear about the ways there are similar.

There are other colourful characters that hang around Grimmauld place, like Kreacher. He mutters all day about blood purity and hangs around the portraits on the wall.

“He’s a nutter,” Sirius tells Harry one day as they watch Kreacher soothe ‘his mistress’, “always so obsessed with blood purity, family purity.”

“I’ll bring Draco around, that’ll appease him,” Harry says, thinking of Draco coming over. Kreacher would probably fawn over his breeding.

“Yeah,” Sirius barks out a laugh, “he’s a Black, so Kreacher would be even more pleased.”

“He is?” Harry asks.

Sirius nods rapidly, pushing himself to his feet, “oh yeah, his mum was Narcissa Black, my cousin,” he starts walking, and Harry hurries to follow, “One of the Black sisters, mum always told us about their ‘progress', well except for Andromeda.”

Sirius leads him to a room covered in photos painted onto the wall. There are lines twisting and curving around them, and Harry realises that this is a family tree.

“That’s me,” Sirius says, pointing to a dark smudge, “and that’s Narcissa,” he moves his finger up and across, pointing at a fair lady. A line connects her to another blond man and Harry watches as they look at each other, and then down, to see Draco (although, a much younger version).

“He’s so small,” Harry marvels, wanting to reach out and run his finger along the lines.

“Hasn’t been updated in a while,” Sirius huffs, pulling out his wand to tap against the wall. At once the images jump back into life, slow movements becoming more energetic and old paint suddenly bursting back into life. Harry is now faced with a much older Draco, who’s fixing his hair. There’s a new line now, faded as the others were before. It’s dotted instead of solid, and it connects Draco to Professor Snape.

“It shows adoptions too?” Harry asks, watching the little faces peer around anew.

Sirius huffs, leaning down to watch what Harry’s looking at. “They must have put it into the Malfoy tree, and it showed up here,” he guesses, before sticking his tongue out at little Snape. His eyes wander back to Draco, and he sighs. “I shouldn’t have said all that stuff to Malfoy when I saw him, huh.”

“You should probably apologise,” Harry acknowledges, “but I know we’ve both moved past it. He would forgive you.”

“Maybe,” Sirius allows, before very seriously turning to the tiny portrait and saying “I’m very sorry.”

Harry feels a laugh burst out of him, and little Draco looks mildly affronted. It only makes him laugh harder, and Sirius is joining in with him. He forgets to ask why Sirius is blacked out, but he imagines it’s not a good story, and so he doesn’t feel too bad about it. 

A fair way away, a much different scene is unfolding.

In the Malfoy Manor, Christmas is tense. Draco gives and receives presents as usual, but he’s snippy with Marvolo, cutting answers short and showing the bare minimum of emotion. They haven’t talked about Mr Weasley yet, but its colouring the air between them, words just waiting to be unleashed into the open.

They sit in near silence for Christmas dinner, a veritable feast laid out before them. It’s only for the three of them though, lunch is for extended family and dinner is just for them. As he watches Marvolo cut into the roast and eat it as if nothing had happened, Draco feels himself snap. He slams both hands down on the table and propels himself to his feet.

Severus breaks the ensuing silence, offering a quiet “Draco,” to try and settle it.

“Don’t ‘Draco’ me!” Draco snaps back turning his attention to Marvolo, “you promised that my friends wouldn’t get hurt anymore. You said that last year was the end of it.”

“I said I would hold back unless it was impossible to,” Marvolo returns.

“Mr Weasley attacked you?” Draco asks incredulously, “Don’t make me laugh, he investigates Muggles, he doesn’t care about the war, and he’s no match for you in any sense of the word.”

“It was unavoidable,” Marvolo tries to defend.

“Well at least try and avoid it!” Draco demands, “he was in the hospital for weeks, they couldn’t stop the bleeding, do you know how scared we all were? We thought he would die!”

“That was never my intention-“

“Oh, so you wanted to kill him outright then?”

“He wasn’t supposed to be there,” Marvolo growls, finally making Draco stop, “there was a last-minute shift change that we were unaware of, our original target was an Unspeakable, someone who could have valuable information.”

Draco is quiet for a second, then he blurts; “but why would you need to attack anyone?”

“We are in a war, Draco, even if the Ministry wants to deny it. There is information we need to succeed quickly and efficiently. I understand how upset you are with Mr Weasley’s attack, but I need you to understand that I am working through the way to avoid a full-scale attack on the Light Side. You understand the Ministry is terrible, yes?”

“Yes,” Draco relents.

“We are attempting to infiltrate it, put our own people in positions of power until eventually we can make decisions and change the magical world without a significant war.”

“Even if someone gets hurt,” Draco realises softly.

“I am sorry that it was your friend’s family, but there will be casualties, this way is simply the most peaceful of all of them.” Draco nods, finally sitting down again. They eat the rest of the meal quietly, only gentle and very shallow conversation taking place. After dessert, Draco retires to his room, and both adults watch him go.

Finally, Severus speaks up. “There was no shift change, Arthur was always the target,” he says quietly.

“Yes,” Marvolo admits, “but if you tell Draco that, I will ensure it will be the last words you speak.” Then he sweeps out of the room. 

——

When they come back after the holidays, Hagrid is back. They find out approximately the same time Umbridge does, so they accidentally bump into the ensuing interrogation. This then leads to their own, where they sit with Hagrid over tea and try and provoke answers about his whereabouts for the last month or so.

They also all ignore how tenderly awkward Draco and Harry are around each other, both balancing delicately on the line between friends and something a little more. Besides, there are other important things to focus on, like the multiple bruises on Hagrid’s face.

“I was talking with the giants,” Hagrid finally admits, “to try and convince them to join the cause.”

“It didn’t go well,” Draco surmises, watching as Hagrid dabs at a cut on his nose.

“Oh, no, I wasn’t the only one there. Some of them were sympathetic to Dumbledore and his cause, but they had already been visited,” Hagrid trails off, taking a second to toss Fang a piece of meat.

“Death eaters,” Ron breathes, dropping his eyes to stare at his cup.

“Yeah,” Hagrid returns, “they were trying to convince them to join with you-know-who, to fight on his side of this war.”

“I wouldn’t blame them if they did,” Draco pipes up, “with the way the Ministry treats them,” he suddenly notices the glares sent his way and tries to soften his argument, “I mean, he would look like a better option if all our side does is be awful to them.”

“It’s only the ministry that’s awful,” Hagrid explains, “normal wizards and witches don’t think that way.”

“Maybe so,” Draco allows, “but, if the government is corrupt, then won’t they think everything is?” He remembers a similar argument from Marvolo, but he can’t remember the exact wording. 

“Draco,” Harry admonishes, “you know as well as I do that the Ministry is horrible on its own. No one at Hogwarts thinks that what they do and if we can explain that to people, why would they want to join the Dark?”

“Unfortunately, explaining isn’t going to stop this war,” Hagrid says gruffly, rising from his seat to point out the window, “look, there’s a storm already brewing. We have to be ready for it.”

Draco’s stomach is twisting itself into knots. He doesn’t really know what to do, he can’t betray his parent, but he also can’t destroy his friendship with his friends. He thinks what they think, but he doesn’t know how. Aren’t they on opposing sides? So, which side is telling the truth? Which side truly wants what's best?

So he just keeps quiet as Hagrid explains the darkness approaching, keeping in all his thoughts on why it may not be such a bad thing if the blinding light is dimmed for a while. 

——

The year only gets worse when splashed across the Daily is an article about an Azkaban breakout. As the copies come down the murmurs and rumours start up, and Draco hears about it before his owl drops the copy off in front of him. 

They’re blaming the escape on Sirius Black, as someone who has escaped before and knows how to do it. Draco finds a flaw in that immediately, when the Daily also points out that he was helping Death Eaters escape, and he knows Sirius hates Death Eaters.

(Not to mention, he remembers two years ago, he remembers the confrontation. The photo they use to display Sirius, his mouth open in an almost unending scream, only serves to send shivers up his spine.)

He can see the confusion, but he also knows that this is in line with the previous reports the Daily has put out, they still blame everything on Sirius, so it’s not too out of place.

Then, the next issue comes out, and Draco can see people getting suspicious. The new issue includes information about his Auntie Bella, about her helping Black do the prison escape. Already, they’ve contradicted the previous article, but they at least to brush it away by claiming they hadn’t had all the information before 

The next few issues only further contradict this though, one claiming that Sirius was actively working for Voldemort, before the next realising that they were trying to say Voldemort was gone and instead claiming Black was aiming to gain followings for his own means.

It’s ridiculous how much they try and go back over themselves throughout the week of the incident, so much so that its become routine to bring old copies of the Daily to breakfast and compare the changes that are made. A few students have created collages of the mistakes, and have simply put phrases beside each other which contradict each other. They’ve stuck them on the walls, a large amount being concentrated near the Defence classroom, much to Umbridge’s annoyance. The only mention the other teachers give them is a gentle reminder to use non-permanent sticking spells, so they can be removed from the walls when needed.

By the end of the week, a new Educational Decree is up on the wall banning papers being placed on the castle walls, (one which a few students point out also technically bans the Educational Decrees being hung on the wall), and Filch goes around tearing down the Daily pages. It’s the end of a week of laughter, but like all good things, it must come to an end.

Though it does ensure one thing, people start to trust Harry more. Already multiple Gryffindors have come up to them and apologised for trusting the Ministry over Harry, and it’s become quite obvious that any who trusted that Umbridge was simply a bad apple have instead decided that the whole Ministry is just terrible. Of course, with it brings the atmosphere of fear, of both the Dark Lord and the Government, but at least people are aware now.

Of course, no one mentions it in front of Umbridge, she defends the Ministry at every turn and has decided to give anyone detention if they mention the series of articles with anything but blind adoration.

——

The most anticipated DA lesson finally arrives, and Harry shows the class how to do the Patronus charm.

“It’s simple,” Harry explains, standing awkwardly in front of a blackboard Hermione had rolled in, “just think of your happiest memory, and put that into the spell. Don’t be upset if you don’t get a full form, I didn’t get one for ages.”

Everyone splits up again, and Draco is happy to see a few Slytherins venture out into other house groups. They’ve become less separated over the course of the lessons, one student venturing out to find a new partner, and then another, until the colours mix on the floor. There are still isolated pockets, but even Harry comes in every now and again to rearrange partners.

Draco’s trying the spell. It’s producing a cloud, like there’s magic behind it but it never comes out. Harry makes his way over, gently coming behind him to position Draco’s arm a little higher.

“There you go,” he says, “try again.”

So Draco does, conjuring up the memory of his little family sitting together for a picnic, one of the only times Marvolo truly decided to be silly and actually chase Draco around the garden. He repeats the spell once more, watching as a blue form launches forth, shapeless for now, but still very much excited to roam around the room. It roams around for a second, curling around Draco’s shoulders, before slowly fading into nothingness.

“Thank you,” Draco says, turning to face Harry properly, “how did you know that would work?”

“Well, Dementors fly above you, right?” Harry explains nervously, “so you need to point higher.”

“Makes sense,” Draco allows, shrugging, “now, shoo. I’ve got to get the proper form.”

“Sure, sure,” Harry grins, “I’ll just go and help Pansy get the form before you.”

“Do not,” Draco hisses, “we’re competing.”

“You’re always competing,” Harry laughs, already walking off to a Ravenclaw who’s getting visibly agitated with their failed attempts.

Draco goes to try again and gets distracted by the otter floating around Hermione, and the terrier leaping up around Ron. Even Luna has got a hare, and Cedric’s goose and Cho’s swan are circling around each other. He’s behind, so he has to put more effort in.

He tries again, closing his eyes to bring up the picnic, but then the memory changes, morphs slightly to the times he had with Ron, Hermione and Harry, the playfulness, the joy. It’s a happy memory from not too long ago, not one tainted by the knowledge that the people who raised him weren’t who he thought they were. It’s enough to push the spell through him, a peacock appearing in a shimmer of blue.

It flounces for a second, feathers puffing up as it tucks its head under its wing to scratch. Draco grins, taking a second to think over what he should do now. He can’t just rely on the chance that the group will notice, he has to make a spectacle of it. So, he beckons the peacock closer.

“Tell Harry Potter,” he whispers, “‘I did it!’” He watches as the peacock struts off. It moves through the crowd quite fluidly and eventually knocks against Harry’s back. Harry turns to watch the peacock in confusion, and Draco can see the surprise etch onto his face as the peacock opens its mouth to deliver the message.

He waves wildly as Harry rushes over. “Good job!” Harry cheers, “I knew you would get it.”

“Of course,” Draco huffs, “and I got a marvellous one too.”

The peacock fluffs up its feathers, and curls it’s neck around Draco’s shoulders. “It’s very pretty,” Harry offers, “and it suits you.”

“Because I’m also very pretty,” Draco nods at his own statement, relishing in the attention the peacock is giving him. 

“Uh, yeah,” Harry coughs awkwardly, “keep practising, but I’m really glad you’ve done so well.”

“Thank you,” Draco grins. He spends the rest of the lesson playing, really. He dismisses the peacock only to recreate it, and spend time simply strutting around with it. Pansy manages to get a semi-corporal one that looks vaguely feline. Theo has a crow that sits on his shoulder, while Blaise only has a vague blue blur. Crabbe and Goyle both struggle and their results seem to be entirely random. At one cast nothing will happen, and at another, the form will be almost recognisable as some form of mammal. It’s frustrating for all.

They’re about to wind up when there’s a boom from the door. By the second boom, all the Patronus’ are dispelled and the students have clumped together. There’s no way out of the room, except for through the door that is currently being smashed.

Finally, the suspense is broken when they see who’s breaking down the wall. Umbridge stands on the other side, unashamedly casting Bombarda into a room of children. At the sight of her, several of the younger ones, as well as a few older students, try and curl inwards, as if they will be hidden by the other students and not picked out when she ultimately comes in.

It doesn’t help though, and when she breaks through the wall, they’re all sent out with names noted and punishment imminent. She takes the list of names out of Hermione’s hands, even though she grips it as hard as she can. The only reason she lets go is because Umbridge spells her hand open, and Hermione is powerless to stop her.

She brings Hermione, Harry and Ron up to Dumbledore, sending a Patronus (it’s an ugly cat, though Draco may be biased against it because of the caster) somewhere along the way. She almost reaches to bring Draco along as well, but Crabbe and Goyle whisk him back into the sea of students, which is apparently distracting enough for her to lose interest.

The next day they hear of Dumbledore’s escape, the Ministry hot on his heels. It feels like the last source of hope is sucked out, and Umbridge truly has free range now. She gets a new role, she gets new powers, the oppressive air around her has invaded every spare area of the castle, and nowhere is safe.

The entire DA spends detention together, Umbridge watching over them write ‘I must not break rules’ over until the message ‘sunk in’, as she said. It lasted hours, breaking most into tears before the end of the detention, and sending many away holding their hands together to try and ease the pain.

Draco didn’t let himself cry until we had returned to his room. He hid in his bed and let his tears fall. No one in the common room had spoken to him, but he could see a few sympathetic faces. Slytherin as a whole was teetering towards disapproval of Umbridge’s actions, but the blatant attack on members of their house has pushed them far enough into actively aggressive. Even Severus, who storms through the common room to gently push away Draco’s curtains and care for his hand, can’t try and hide his hatred of the toad.

While Umbridge takes away the only resistance they have, the student body has become disillusioned to her. No one believes she’s in the right, even if they can’t do anything about it.

——

They’re walking along the outside hallway when they see Hagrid. His sharp hiss tugs them out of the heated argument they had entered about Harry’s spiralling feelings. Latching onto something else to focus on, they follow Hagrid even as he leads them through the forest, and deeper into darkness. 

Hagrid’s vague answers aren’t exactly helping, and the intense atmosphere only increases when a herd of centaurs clamour by, just too far to be seen clearly through the fog. They’re shouting, and Draco gets the feeling that as least one watches them as they pass, but the knowledge that Hagrid is there soothes both parties.

“I’ve never seen ‘em like this,” Hagrid says, almost viciously, “if the Ministry restricts their territory any more than this, they’ll have a riot on they’re hands.”

“Why would the Ministry restrict their territory?” Ron asks, still looking at where they had passed by.

“Because the Ministry is terrible, and doesn’t care about any magical creatures,” Hermione spits angrily, stomping after Hagrid as he continues to lead them through the forest. “What’s going on?” She asks, grabbing on to a corner of Hagrid’s clothes when he finally starts to slow.

Hagrid sighs, “I’m sorry for being so secretive,” he tells them, “I‘m just worried I’ll be getting the sack any day now, and I couldn’t leave without telling anyone.”

“Telling anyone what?” Draco asks before the question is answered right before his eyes. There’s a giant, much larger than Hagrid, coming towards them at high speed. The four teens scramble backwards, as Hagrid comes forward.

“Grawpy,” he greets happily, “this here is some new friends,” he turns to the huddled group and smiles at them, “this is my half-brother.”

The giant takes another step forward and manages to swoop down and grab Hermione from where she was standing. Hagrid rapidly shouts at Grawp to put her down, while Ron has pulled his wand, even if it won’t make a difference. Draco hasn’t got anything to help either, only his wand. He wasn’t expecting to go up against a giant today.

Ron at least gives it a try, whacking the giant’s leg with a branch. Grawp brushes it off, kicking Ron away so he stumbles back. (The kick is fairly gentle for a giant, he could have sent Ron sailing through the trees. It once again brings into question Hagrid’s sanity in all of this.)

Hermione, in her infinite wisdom and skill, manages to get Grawp to put her down, and the group of children immediately scuttle back a few steps, scared of a repeat. Hagrid eagerly continues his one-sided conversation with Grawp, both admonishing and praising him for his actions. Ron has anxiously patted Hermione down, to her increasing annoyance. She snaps at him, pushing his hands away and he wisely surrenders before anything else happens.

Grawp sorts through his little pile of things and pulls out some sort of metal object. When he pushes on the little tab it springs back to hit the dome and make a soft ‘brrrring!’ sound. Draco can’t figure out the other sticks coming off of it though, are those handles for the instrument?

Hermione accepts it graciously though, ringing the bell. Grawp seems pleased by this and takes the instrument back.

“He’s the only family I’ve got left,” Hagrid says softly as Grawp rings the bell over and over. 

“Hagrid,” Draco starts softly, only to be cut off by the half-giant’s soft sniffle.

“You’ll take care of him when I’m gone,” Hagrid asks softly, “won’t you?”

“Of course,” Harry agrees, and Draco can see a retort on the tip of Ron’s tongue. Hermione takes care of it though, elbowing him so he’ll remain quiet. The rest of their little trip is spent by Grawp giving them different oddities, many of which Draco has never seen before. He feels awkward with the strange objects in his hands, especially after watching his friends use them so expertly, and takes to spelling them all clean when he’s handed them. Grawp seems happy enough with this, thankfully, and no more get picked up or flung around.

——

The occlumency lessons haven’t gotten any easier, and it seems with every spurt of Harry’s memories Snape has only gotten more aggressive. The most awkward encounter happened when Snape had stumbled across the soft memory of Draco and Harry under the mistletoe and the two had both lapsed into silence until Snape gathered himself together and recast the spell, delving back into Harry’s memories but manoeuvring himself away from anything even resembling the Malfoy’s.

But in tonight’s lesson tensions are running high before they even enter into the spells. Harry can’t clear his mind properly, he’s running too hot. Too much is happening in his mind, it’s too high-strung, and that’s what allows him to take the upper hand. 

Severus slips into his mind easily at first, rifling through his memories. He probes around some of the more painful ones, and the just feeling the edge of them throws Harry into a panic. He pushes back, but overshoots. Instead of pushing back into the real world, he pushes too far, coming to a stop in Severus’ mind. 

He knows this because he can see a younger Snape being pushed around by his father. He’s watching the marauders come up the hill with astonishment, watching as Severus scrambles back, watches as they taunt each other. He can feel Severus’ mind coming back online, attempting to push Harry back out. It doesn’t work, simply nudges Harry away from the memory. The scenery whirs away, but the situation is the same, Severus cowering away from the marauders. He hunches back, but before anything can become physical the situation abruptly changes.

He doesn’t recognise this, but some part of him does. It’s outside a large lush garden. He can’t see the edge of it, instead, flowers and peacocks and fountains fill his vision. Almost in front of him is an older Severus, but still younger than he is today. He’s helping Draco pluck flowers from the garden, some Harry even recognises as potion ingredients. It's a softer, sweeter memory, but something curls in the back of Harry’s mind. Something’s here he recognises.

He can feel it before he hears it, a soft chuckle coming from somewhere to his left. He swings his head around to see the person there, catching a glimpse of dark robes before he’s abruptly shoved out of Snape’s mind. Severus is panting lightly, trying to keep composure, though fear is dancing across his eyes.

“Our lesson is finished for tonight,” Snape eventually says, still trying to pull himself together.

“Professor Snape,” Harry starts, only to be cut off by Severus abruptly surging forward.

“Our lesson is finished, Potter,” he sneers, “perhaps I will find a tutor more suited to your teachings.”

Harry leaves confused, which quickly turns to rage as he witnesses Fred and George attempt to console a crying second year. Umbridge hovers in the background, shooing them all to bed with a sickening smile. For a second, Harry imagines punching it off her face.

——

The History of Magic exam is tremendously boring, and with Harry’s massive handwriting he’s filled up the space with so much time left. What would it hurt, to simply close his eyes? He’ll be well-rested for his other exams, and it’s not like he’s going to do any better on this one. A nice nap sounds beneficial, at least that’s what he’ll tell Hermione when she inevitably tells him off, but for now a calming nap.

Or at least, that’s his intention. The resulting nap is much less pleasant, and he dreams of the snake again. He can feel it, the need to attack like last time. Except, instead of Mr Weasley, the snake is slithering around Sirius, pulling back to strike. 

He awakes with a start, sending his papers tumbling to the ground. He can’t lose Sirius, he can’t! He jumps up, eyes wild and half-way crazed, and turns to run. The Professor doesn’t even notice as Harry pushes apart the doors and runs into the corridor. 

He doesn’t know what to do, least of all how to get to Sirius. As he runs through the halls trying to find something to help, he runs into the Weasley twins.

“Woah, Harry,” Fred, or maybe George says, “where are you going?”“Shouldn’t you be in your test?” The other twin asks.

“I saw Sirius getting hurt,” Harry explains, “like I did with your dad, I can’t-“ he cuts himself off, not sure how to finish the sentiment.

“What do you need,” is all the twins ask.

“I need to floo there,” an idea strikes, as fast as a snake (no, don’t think about that!), “I need Umbridge’s floo!”

“Well George,” Fred says brightly, “I think we can muster up a distraction!”

“Fred,” George says just as brightly, “I think we can!”

So Harry starts running back through the school as Fred and George accio their wands and a few supplies. Mere seconds later he hears the first firework buzz through the school. The halls are filling with students now, and he can see his History of Magic exam students start to leave the hall.

He grabs Hermione, Ron and Draco as he passes. Or, Ron, Hermione and Draco grab onto him.

“What’s wrong?” Ron asks, taking in his rumpled state, “Was the test that bad?”

“I saw Sirius getting hurt,” Harry says, explaining again, “I need to help him!”

“Shouldn’t we get a teacher?” Hermione asks nervously.

“There’s no time,” Harry deflects, “come with me, we need to get to Umbridge’s floo. We’ll use it to travel to the ministry. That’s where he is.”

He runs off again, barely taking note of Hermione, Ron and Draco following him down the hallway. He can see fireworks fly from behind him, lighting up the hallways. Papers are being thrown around, and there’s a brilliant dragon of light, headed straight for the Great Hall. He can see streams of students file out into the courtyard, through the windows he sees the Weasley Twins proudly fly off into the distance, well away from Umbridge’s influence.

“Harry, you need to stop and think,” Hermione pleads as Harry almost doesn’t dodge a stray firework, “please.”

“What?” Harry snaps, “I saw Sirius getting hurt, I’m not going to wait around.”

“What if he meant for you to see that?” Hermione asks, “what if you-know-who is just trying to pull you into a trap?”

“Does the Dark Lord even know about Harry’s link?” Draco asks.

Hermione tugs on the end of her hair, “that’s not the point! The point is, what if we’re rushing headfirst into a trap?”

“Well,” Harry says, “we’ll just have to rush in wand first instead.”

They storm into Umbridge’s office and Harry takes a handful of floo powder to throw in the flames. The fire lights up green, which casts a sickly glow across Umbridge as she comes storming into her office.

Members of the Inquisitorial Squad come in as she manhandles the students away from the fire, escorting in Crabbe, Goyle, and surprisingly Neville, Luna, and Ginny.

“Found them outside,” the student adds, walking them in at wandpoint. (Draco has no idea why Crabbe and Goyle are just letting themselves be bossed around so much, they surely have enough power between them to knock both Umbridge and the Inquisitorial Squad out.) 

Umbridge immediately singles out Harry, forcing the rest back on the wall across the room.

“You were going to Dumbledore,” she says, almost sweetly, “weren’t you?”

“No,” Harry shoots back truthfully. Then Umbridge slaps him, the sound rings across the room and Draco can feel the students around him shift. He almost lurches forward at the sound but Ron has grabbed his wrist hard enough to bruise. He’s not sure which one of them it’s meant to be holding back.

Severus enters then, and he watches the crowd of students and the interrogation that’s clearly taking place, but Draco knows as well as he does that very little can be done.

He snarks though. “You used up all the veritaserum already,” he drawls, and Umbridge turns away with a huff.

Harry doesn’t, instead calling out; “he’s got Padfoot! At the place where it’s hidden.” Draco can tell from the hitch in Severus’ steps that it means something important, and he assumes it's some kind of code he doesn’t understand, and neither does Umbridge.

“What does that mean?” She hisses, turning back to Harry. Harry just looks at her, and Umbridge sighs, composing herself in the same way Marvolo does before saying something Draco doesn’t want to hear. “As this is a matter of Ministry Safety, I guess I shall have to rely on the Cruciatus Curse.” She readies her wand and is preparing to strike when Hermione desperately calls out.

“Harry! If you won’t tell her I will.”

“Tell me what?” Umbridge asks, full of curiousness.

“About Dumbledore’s secret weapon,” Hermione says, swallowing a nervous ball that’s appeared in her throat.

“Yeah,” Ron pipes up, “he told us each a bit about it.”

“Then take me to it,” Umbridge orders.

“We all have to go,” Draco adds quickly, “Ron, Hermione, Harry and I.” He can feel Crabbe’s tension at himself and Goyle not being added to the list, but he can’t take it back now.

“Yes,” Harry agrees, “you need to take all four of us.” 

Umbridge is hesitant for a second but the appeal of taking Dumbledore’s fake weapons is obviously too much for her to give up. She grabs the four of them and orders the Inquisitorial Squad to keep watch over the others as she leaves.  
Together they make their way into the Forbidden Forest. Hermione takes them in and helps Ron lead them towards Grawp. Thankfully Draco and Harry pick up the plan quickly and take their turns leading them through the forest, every now and again muttering helpful things that make it seem as if Dumbledore truly had given them a secret weapon. 

Umbridge seems to get antsy as they continue onwards, but they manage to lead her to Grawp. Or at least, where Grawp should be.

“Where’s the weapon?” Umbridge asks as Ron skids to a stop in front of the broken rope, as if it will give him clues to the whereabouts of the giant.

“Harry,” Draco hisses frantically, eyes searching in case Grawp does happen to be nearby.

“You thought you could trick me?” Umbridge asks incredulously, pointing her wand at them, “me? The High Inquisitor?”

On the hilltop arrives a herd of centaurs, and Umbridge turns her attention to them instead. She raises her wand, screams at them, and finally decides on the stupidest course of action. She casts a spell on one of them.

At least it wasn’t an unforgivable, but immediately vines spring into place, choking the centaur as he tries to run. The herd shifts on the small hill as one of their own falls down. Draco rushes forward on instinct, trying to help tug the rope away from the neck. Hermione tries to help as well, but her own magic isn’t enough to combat Umbridge’s focus.

The group is thrown into chaos as Grawp comes through the trees and picks Umbridge up, much to her shrieking disdain. The centaurs take the opportunity to shoot at them both, though the arrows barely graze Umbridge and instead lodge into Grawp’s arms. Grawp frowns as he pulls them out, and drops Umbridge back onto the ground to instead try and get away. The centaurs take the opportunity to drag Umbridge away, and she shrieks the whole time.

It’s over before they get to do anything on their own, though with their problem solved they decide as one to head back and try and find another way to the ministry. On the walk, they run into Crabbe, Goyle, Luna, Ginny and Neville, who have escaped their own bonds.

“How did you get away?” Hermione asks as they merge together.

“Crabbe and Goyle knocked out the Inquisitorial Squad,” Neville stage-whispers, “with their fists.”

“You couldn’t reach your wands?” Draco asks, speeding up to line up with them.

“It was more fun to hit them,” Goyle admits.

Draco lets out an amused huff, but before they can continue on the benefits of fists versus wands, Luna points over at empty air.

“We can ride them,” she offers.

“Would be safer than the chance of coming against the squad,” Harry considers. He walks forward, soothes something none of them can see, and then with a slightly wobbly flourish, hops onto the said empty air.

“Hop on,” Luna beckons, climbing onto another block of empty air. Neville follows swiftly after, climbing up as it were a ledge.

Ron tries, holding his hands awkwardly until he bumps into something. One by one the group fumble around until they find invisible horses to ride. Harry seems to release they can’t see whatever he can and gentling helps a few onto them. 

“We’re going to ride to the Ministry?” Draco asks sceptically as he settles down onto the animal, who he thinks is a thestral (though he doesn’t want to believe so many of his friends have already seen death.)

“Pretty much,” Harry nods, and suddenly he takes off into the air. The other horses follow quickly, followed by surprised shrieks from many of their group, including a happy one from Luna.

Wind brushes against Draco’s face, as well as a few strands of what he assumes is hair. The trip to the ministry isn’t actually all that adventurous, though the view is amazing. (The fact that only a few of them can actually see what their riding makes it slightly nerve-wracking as well.)

They reach a Ministry together and thankfully can run in without too many adults (or any) to stop them. The elevator brings them up to the Department of Mysteries, and they cautiously step out.

A long dark hallway greets them, black stones eerily similar to those from Room of Requirement. Darkness pervades the hallways, so they all quickly light a Lumos on their wands. Harry darts of anxiously through the shelves, running ahead of them and coming to a stop in the middle of one.

“He should be here,” Harry says, taking a look around, “he-“

“It’s okay,” Draco says, “it’s better if he’s not here, right, then he’s not hurt?” 

“Yeah,” Harry mutters, distracted. Something pulls at the back of his mind, and as he turns he manages to spot a prophecy orb with his name on it. It speaks to him in jumbles, about living and surviving, about children and Dark Lords, but his attention is pulled away from it by an insane laugh hiding behind a death eater mask.

Before any of them can make a move, Draco crumples. Behind him, Crabbe still holds his wand up, and Goyle gently grabs him before his head can hit the ground.

“What?” Ron growls, confused and angered by this apparent betrayal.

“Harry,” Goyle urges softly, sliding down to lay Draco gently against the floor, “we can’t fight in this.”

Harry swings his head to face them, and then to see the Death Eater just down the corridor. He wants them by his side in this fight, but this is better than them being against him. He knows the rumours about Slytherin, he’d have to be blind to miss the way some of them are already following Voldemort. He knows there are family ties, and he doesn’t want to risk his friends' safety. (For a second he thinks of the Dursley’s, thinks of his friends coming home to disappointed families, what could await them.) He nods tightly, watching for a second as Crabbe and Goyle plant themselves around Draco’s unconscious form.

“Potter!” The death eater laughs, “you should really learn the differences between reality and dreams,” with that she waves the mask off her face, revealing Bellatrix underneath, “it’s not beneficial to be so easily manipulated. Just hand over the prophecy and we’ll be on our way.”

“You hurt us and I break it,” Harry snaps back.

Bellatrix laughs, “you know how to play! Too bad you’re too small to. Itty bitty. We’d have it before it hit the ground!”

“Why does Voldemort even need it?” Harry asks, “he told me he had broken it last year.”

“Now why would I tell you that, you filthy half-blood,” Bellatrix sneers, “just hand it over.”

“Calm down dear,” a voice of to the side says, and the group turns outwards only to be faced with Death Eaters on all sides. A few glance down to Draco, vulnerable on the floor, and Harry can see the one who spoke reach out as if to touch him. 

“Just hand it,” Bellatrix hisses again, getting fed up.

“Uh,” Harry says, taking a look around, “no.” Then he casts stupefy, hitting her in the chest. His friends follow suit and they dash off. Death Eaters seem to appear out of nowhere, and it’s a rush to fight them off. They split up, and he can hear his friends shouting spells in a mad dash. He’s so focused on running that he doesn’t realise when they all bump into each other, almost hexing Hermione.

Ginny sees the Death Eater behind them and casts a powerful reducto, setting off a chain reaction of prophecies falling. They watch it come closer and turn to run back to the door, hoping to beat it before it hits them. (He worries for his friends still in there, but he trusts that Crabbe and Goyle could cast a protection charm strong enough to protect all three of them.)

The new room has an archway taller than them all. It whispers to him, but he’s too focused making sure everyone is okay to understand any words. Death Eaters rush in, swirling around the room and separating them all, grabbing each of his friends and pulling them to the edge of the room. 

“Itty bitty babies,” Bellatrix coos, “it was fun, but now we need that prophecy. Or we kill your friends!”

He grips it in his hand, half hoping the force shatters it and half hoping it doesn’t. He debates, holds it up and plops it into Bellatrix’s hand.

“Step away,” Sirius says suddenly, appearing out of thin air behind Bellatrix, “from my grandson.” He punches her across the facing, sending the prophecy flying and smashing into the ground. She shrieks as it breaks, and the rest of the Order quickly appear, shooing the Death Eater’s away. The fight renews, and it’s clear the tables have turned in their favour.

“Harry,” Sirius urges in a break, “I need you to take your friends and get out of here.”

“No!” Harry cries, “no, I’m not leaving you.”

Whatever Sirius wants to say next is drowned out by Harry casting a spell at the closest Death Eater. Sirius grins at him, shouting praise and spells as he follows in the attack. They work together, quickly displacing the few who had gotten the high ground until suddenly Sirius drops to the ground with a scream.

Harry rushes over, trying to find the wound, and manages to look up in time to see Bellatrix laughing, holding her wand up and clearly directing the spell. She smirks, turns, and dashes out of the room. Sirius’ screams continue on, high and pained, and Harry makes the decision to chase after her.

“I got Sirius Black!” Bellatrix sings as she runs away, “I got him!”“Crucio!” Harry cries, hitting Bellatrix square in the back as she did Sirius not moments ago. Bellatrix hits the ground but doesn’t scream, her laughs just trail off. Harry watches her, and he’s not satisfied, he pulls back as if to hit her again when he hears that voice in his head.

“Do it,” the voice urges, but it’s not from inside his head, it’s to his left. Harry swings his head around and sees Voldemort standing there, an almost sick grin on his face. As Harry raises his wand to hit him, Voldemort knocks it away with a huff.

He knows Voldemort is going to hit him with something when Dumbledore appears.

“You shouldn’t have come tonight, Tom,” Dumbledore says calmly, (and that name rings a bell somewhere in Harry’s memories,) “the authorities will be here soon.”

“And you will be dead,” Voldemort replies, casting the first spell. Harry and Bellatrix dive out of the way, with the latter managing to floo away. The fight progresses dramatically, with Voldemort’s fire dragon being bested by Dumbledore’s skill over the water, only for that to be dispelled and returned by Voldemort with thousands of shards of glass. Voldemort disappears, and Harry believes the fight to be over before a sharp pain in his scar brings him to his knees.

His mind is assaulted with images of death and destruction, his friends, his family, the school left to ruin. He sees himself, and then Voldemort mirroring him.

“You’re weak,” Voldemort hisses, “look at yourself.” And he can see it, the similarities between them, the destruction wrought by Voldemort’s hand suddenly becoming consequences of his own actions. He can hear Dumbledore, but he can’t make out the words, all he feels is pain and loss, so deep. 

Another flash through of images, the Order lying in rubble, his friends laid to ruin, each one in a puddle of their own blood. For a second the harsh control Voldemort has stutters, just slightly, and Harry can take a look at the scene. 

His friends are alive, he wants to scream it, tell him. He conjures his own images, of his family together, spending time with those he loves. He thinks of the DA meetings, teaching others, connecting with them, and his mind swerves gently to the kiss underneath the mistletoe. He thinks of Draco’s soft smile when they talk, of the way Ron and Hermione laugh at his jokes, and suddenly he’s in control of his mind again, and he can push Voldemort forcibly out. The last thing he’s aware of is pain in his chest, Voldemort leaving, and then he’s pulled swiftly under into darkness.

——

The school is abuzz, and Harry almost regrets convincing Madam Pomfrey he’s fine by himself. Umbridge is gone, and Dumbledore is rightly placed back as Headmaster. The news of Voldemort spreads quickly throughout Britain.

Sirius wrote to him, telling him that’s he’s fine, even if sometimes his nerves twitch. He tells him of the Order, recovered as well as they can be, and in return, Harry tells him of his own friends.

The only one left in the hospital wing is Draco, as the spell he was hit with caused a headache (and Severus is overly cautious about it.) The official story is that a Death Eater hit him early on in the fight, and Crabbe and Goyle stayed with him until an Order member got them out, and no one tells Draco any different.

Harry’s about to visit him in the hospital wing when he’s stopped just outside by Pansy.

“Harry,” she greets, “I need to talk to you about Draco.”

“Is he okay?” Harry asks nervous both for his friend and because Pansy is scary on her own.

“Physically yes,” Pansy assures, “but he’s not going to make it out of this war unharmed.”

“What?” Harry says, “we’re not going to let him get hurt if that’s what you mean.”  
“No, Harry,” Pansy runs a hand through her hair and takes a breath, “he’s been raised surrounded by Death Eaters. Draco has been indoctrinated as long as he’s been alive and their not willing to let him go anytime soon. I’m sure you met his Aunt, Bellatrix, she dotes on him. A lot of the high ranking Death Eaters do, and when Draco realises what they’ve done during the war he’s going to have a tough time accepting it.”

“Why’s he so important?” Harry asks incredulously.

“That’s not for me to say,” Pansy admits, “but listen when Draco finds out the truth about the people he cares about, he’s going to break. I need you to be there for him.”

“I will,” Harry promises, “of course I will.”

Pansy looks him up and down, and nods, “good,” she says, sweeping away. Harry watches her go and then gently enters into the hospital wing. He can hear Draco talking with Crabbe and Goyle, both of them having barely left his side since they came back.

“And so,” he can hear Goyle say, “we’re not letting you run off with Harry again without us there.”

“I thought you said he was powerful enough to be a bodyguard too,” Draco snarks back.

“That was before we realised he was the danger magnet,” Crabbe adds, “away from Potter is away from danger.”

“Oh, hush,” Draco dismisses, “danger only finds Harry sometimes. He’s usually fine.” Draco turns to see Harry and waves.

“Speak of the devil,” Harry says, “I just wanted to check up on you.”

“I’m fine,” Draco hums, talking to both groups at once, “Snape is just a worry-wart.”

“I think he worries just enough,” Goyle pipes up.

“You’re both worry-warts too,” Draco huffs, pointing at them, “I’m fine.”

“I’m glad you are,” Harry eases before an argument can break out. Draco turns a soft smile to him, and Harry thinks back to his conversation with Pansy. He’ll be there for him when everything breaks to pieces. He will, he has to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi y'all. I'm alive! Wow this took absolutely ages, but it's here now. Sorry it's so long, I debated splitting it up but without writing the whole thing I didn't know where the halfway point would be. I'm very tired and there's probably a bunch of mistakes, Grammarly said I had 166 errors which I ran through and fixed, which was very fun. (Fun fact: I'm now on page 100 in the document I write in.) The Drarry is hopefully more mild, and all the relationships will be. (Another fun fact: this marks the end of things I actually know happened in the Harry Potter universe...I haven't read/seen the movies past year 5...)
> 
> I have exams so I'm not even going to work on anything probably for the next month, so I guess this will be a bit of a hiatus, but I'll definitely come back to this. Have a good day, and I hope you enjoyed!


	20. eight years - picture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco is truly an artist. At least he thinks he is.

Draco has been by himself for five minutes. And that’s five minutes too long. Today was meant to be a fun play day, and while Draco wasn’t a baby, he still liked playing with his parents. Marvolo already had to go away for a meeting even though he was meant to be playing with him, and now Severus was called away? It was unfair.

They had even been doing quiet play, Draco was drawing a marvellous picture, Severus could have stayed here and done whatever it is he was going to do. Draco heaved a sigh as he coloured in the edge of the robes, his family portrait was mostly a mix of black and grey, running his pencils down to short nubs. He had coloured a happy rainbow in the back to add some colour and had put some nice emerald highlights on Nagini’s jade tail. (It was very important to him that those were two different colours.)

He finished the picture, and Severus still wasn’t back. It was a marvellous picture, if he’s being honest, he had got the colours and faces perfect, and it was overall perfect. He wanted to show someone, he needed to show someone. 

Severus wasn’t here to show, and he didn’t know where he was. But Marvolo was in the meeting room in the dungeon, he knew where that was. Severus would say no if he asked him, but Severus wasn’t here to ask. Maybe he could just…go?

Draco grabbed his drawing carefully and hopped out of his chair. He snuck down the hallway, being careful not to be seen by Severus or one of the wandering visitors. He tiptoed around corners, weaving through like a super spy, or like a snake. 

He finally got to the dungeon stairs and skipped down them, holding on to the handrail with one hand and the picture with the other. He reaches the end of the stairs and continues on his mission through the winding corridors. The dungeons are slightly damp, and so Draco hugs the paper to his chest, worried it’ll get ruined.

He passes the potion lab, careful to slip past the door silently even though he’s not sure if Severus is actually inside. He turns a few more corners, happily running his free hand over some of the more exposed pipes, feeling the smooth metal under his hand absentmindedly. 

Finally, he stands in front of the meeting room and knocks politely. He can’t hear anything from inside, Marvolo always puts up silencing charms around meetings, especially ones in the dungeons. After a second of waiting the door swings open violently, and Draco is faced with a slightly crazed Bellatrix.

“Oh, Dracey,” she hums, immediately softening, “what are you doing?” She wipes a hand across her cheek, smearing the red drop there into a line.

Draco holds up the picture, “I wanted to show Marvolo my family portrait!” 

“Aww,” Bella ruffles up Draco’s hair, “that’s very sweet, I’ll get Lord Voldemort for you.” She giggles as she lets the door swing closed, and Draco waits patiently until the door opens again.

Marvolo stands on the other side, but Draco is distracted by Nagini, who rears up to get Draco to pat her. He happily does so, being careful to follow the path of the scales, and not go against them.

“What was it that you wanted, Draco?” Marvolo asks, slightly exasperated.

“I made a picture,” Draco says, gently showing Marvolo his drawing, “it’s our family. See, that’s you,” he points to a dark spindly person, “and that’s Severus,” another dark spindly person, this time with longer hair, “and that’s me,” a brighter, smaller person wearing a brighter shade of green.

“Oh,” Marvolo says, “it’s a wonderful drawing.” He reaches out to grab it, with clean hands thankfully, and inspects the little people.

“I drew a rainbow in the back, because I like them,” Draco explains, pointing to the sky in the picture.

“Is that Nagini?” Marvolo asks, motioning to the curled up, string looking object.

“Of course,” Draco says, “and in the back is all my auntie’s and uncle’s.” Sure enough, tucked into a corner of the picture is a group of people, each with one or two things that makes them distinct from the others.

Marvolo gently hands the picture back, “have you shown Severus yet?”

“No,” Draco says, averting his eyes guiltily.

“If you return before he does,” Marvolo smirks just a bit, “he will never have to know you came down to find me.”

Draco nods rapidly, giving Marvolo a quick hug around the legs and hopping back up the stairs. Marvolo watches him go until he loses sight of him and returns back to his task. He closes the door behind and walks right back to the ministry member who had been putting himself firmly on Marvolo’s bad side.

“It was a pretty drawing,” Bellatrix grins, waving her wand, “he’s an artist!”

“He’s eight,” Marvolo reminds her, “now, where were we?”

The man in front of him screams in pain as Bellatrix casts a crucio, but Marvolo’s mind has already wandered off to the blond happily sneaking back into the playroom. Severus figures out Draco had left the room within a minute of him returning to it, though he decides mentioning it is more trouble than it’s worth, and instead let's Draco happily explain the important significance in his family potrait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!! Exams were a wild ride, and I'm very tired, but now I have more time to write! Hopefully I'll get started on the next year asap, but I also wanted to write some more family moments before I dive into the angst I know is coming. 
> 
> This practically inspired the whole story. I don't know if anyone remembers that one vine where there's a gangster guy who is intimidated someone and stops halfway through to enthuse about his son's drawing (I'm terrible at explaining vines), but that's what inspired this, and everything else, pretty much. 
> 
> Thank you everyone who commented, kudos-ed, bookmarked or even read this, you all have been absolutely amazing! I love you all, and you keep me going. As always, thank you for reading, and have a great day!


	21. four years - tooth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trying to raise your child in a loving household can be hard when you don't have much experience to draw on.

It happens over dinner, well, that’s not true. It starts a few days prior, with Draco shoving his fingers in his mouth more often even though Severus has told him not to, and progresses until dinner.

Draco takes a bite of bread, the harsh crunch of the outside disguising any other sound from inside his mouth. He chews for a second, noting a hard rock in his bread, and eventually spits it out into his napkin. 

He looks at the pearly white rock and rubs it clean. It’s a very strange shape, almost like a little stool. It looks like his teeth, but with extra tooth. He runs his tongue around his mouth and finds a gap between his bottom front teeth.

“Sev,” Draco calls, tugging on his sleeve.

“Yes, Draco?” Severus answers, cutting into his own roast lamb.

“Look,” Draco says, holding the tooth out in his palm.

“Don’t play with your food,” Severus sighs.

“I’m not!” Draco insists, “there’s tooth.”

Severus whips his head around to look at the baby-tooth Draco is holding in his hand, the bright white almost camouflaged with his pale skin. He holds the tooth out insistently until Severus gently takes it.

“I have a hole now,” Draco tells him, opening his mouth to point at the gap. He accidentally jabs it with his finger, and when he pulls it back there’s a smear of red across it. “I broke it,” Draco whines in a panic.

“It’s a baby tooth,” Severus explains, grabbing a clean napkin to gently press against the gap, “they’re meant to come out.”

“I’ hur’s,” Draco mumbles around the napkin, though Severus knows that’s not quite right because he didn’t show any signs of pain before realising there was blood.

“It’ll get better,” Marvolo assures from his end of the table. He holds out a hand and Severus gently places the tooth in it. Marvolo inspects the tooth equally carefully before handing it back. “Do you know what this means now?” He asks teasingly.

“I bro’e i’,” Draco mumbles around the napkins, uncertain tears sparkling in his eyes.

“No, no,” Marvolo assures, “now you’ll be visited by the Tooth Fairy.”

“The Tooth Fairy?” Draco questions after Severus removes the napkin. (There’s only a spot of blood on it, but he carefully hides it from Draco’s view in case it sets off another round of tears.)

“Yes, if you place the tooth under your pillow, the Tooth Fairy will take it and give you,” Marvolo pauses, slightly uncertain for the first time in many years, “a gift.”

Draco seems excited, bouncing a little in place, “what type of gift?”

“A surprise,” Severus jumps in, “which you’ll see when you wake up in the morning.”

“Then I’ll sleep now,” Draco says, pushing his plate away. Severus gently pushes it back.

“Finish your dinner first, then we can start your bedtime routine.”

It’s the easiest bedtime routine they’ve ever done. Draco hurries himself through eating and then doesn’t argue at all about going to bed. He’s filled with energy through his bath and is so hurried that he picks out mismatched pyjamas. Once put in proper pyjamas and tucked safely in, Draco almost reverently places his tooth under the pillow, settling his head on it and closing his eyes.

“I’m asleep,” he declares to the room, before fake snoring. Severus leaves him to it, waiting for him to tire of the facade and settle down into the actual little snores he makes when he’s asleep.

Outside of his bedroom, Marvolo is standing, looking deep in thought. His eyes slide to Severus as he approaches, and he straightens up. They both look at each other for a second, silence filling the space as neither of them wants to start the conversation.

Eventually, Severus bites the bullet, so to speak. “What do we put under his pillow?”

“I was hoping you had an idea of what to do,” Marvolo admits, “I never was able to be visited by the Tooth Fairy, exactly.”

“Me neither,” Severus mutters, “my students don’t usually talk on such subjects either, though one complained he had received a galleon while his younger sister received a craft kit.”

“Draco has no need for galleons,” Marvolo scoffs, “he has his vault and we’d provide for anything he wants. Perhaps we should give him a book instead?”

They go to the library, near the back where Draco rarely visits and search for anything. (They could buy something, but it would take too long to get there, and it was too late to go themselves.) There’s a small picture book, obviously something that belonged to Lucius by its wear and tear, and the small signature on the front page.

Marvolo carefully weaves some charms in to protect it from further harm and they decide that this would be a wonderful ‘Tooth Fairy’ gift. Severus gently swaps the tooth with the book using a bit of magic, leaving them with another dilemma.

“Do we keep the tooth?” Marvolo asks, “do we need it?”

“It’s not useful in many potions,” Severus says, inspecting the little thing, “unless you want to put it in polyjuice.”

“Are we meant to keep it?” Marvolo asks again, “is it important, do we give them back to him?”

“I don’t know,” Severus admits, “maybe we’ll put it in a box, just in case.” There’s an unused jewellery box in his room (a ‘gift’ that he’s pretty sure was an attempt to humiliate him), and so they put the tooth inside. It feels weird to display it, so he just puts it in and closes the lid. 

Draco wakes the house up with an excited squeal and eagerly runs to show everyone his new book, his excitement only doubling when Severus points out the signature inside. He demands the book to be read to him three times throughout the day, once in the morning, once after lunch and then again as his bedtime book.

The only downside is that Draco starts wobbling his teeth more, tugging on them absentmindedly as a way to get more free things. Severus and Marvolo find themselves having to gently remove Draco’s hands from his mouth more than once, though the next tooth comes out with a lot less uncertainty, from both parties.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...no angst yet, only fun times. I wanted to write more fun family times, I feel like I'll hit the end of the plot and still have a few of these left. Do people mind if I mark this as completed when I finish the plot but still add to it if the need strikes? (I ask, knowing that this might take me a while to fully work through...)
> 
> Thank you for reading, and I hope you have a great day!


	22. Sixth year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco is tasked, Harry is tasked, it's just a shame they can't work together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick TW: Draco mentions missing meals once or twice in his parts, and is physically deteriorating because of stress. If you need to feel free to skip as much as you want or comment and ask for more specifics, I'm always happy to answer.

After Draco gets out of the Hospital Wing and returns home, he finally gets to read the news. None of his friends had thought to bring him the Daily, and when he asked Severus he was lightly refused. Instead, he had to read his school books over and over while on bedrest. It was dreadfully mind-numbing, he didn’t even have to know half of these things anymore, he had already done his tests.

Then, at breakfast one morning he eagerly snatches the Daily off the table before either of his guardians, flicking through in glee before a page suddenly grabs his interest. There, on a two-page spread almost dead centre, is an article outlining the rebirth of the Dark Lord. Underneath information about the ministry attack and a photo of a surly looking Harry, is an article about some muggle bridge in London. According to the Daily, Death Eaters had collapsed a popular muggle bridge, sending both muggles and wizards into a flurry of fear. It doesn’t mention casualties, but it does mention that restorative efforts were being made. It makes him squint at the paper as if that could give him insight into why the Ministry thought telling the muggles more about their world would in any way be helpful.

The paper was snatched out of his hands with a flick of a wand, and Marvolo calmly read through the pages.

“Why are you attacking a muggle bridge?” Draco asks, “I thought we didn’t want muggles to learn of wizards.”

“The muggles thought it was a natural disaster, no need to worry,” Marvolo replies, eyes scanning the page, “it was intended as a warning for the Ministry, not for the muggles to ever truly understand.”

“Hmm,” Draco hums, a little sceptically, “they think it was a natural disaster? What, do their disasters only occur naturally?”

“No,” Marvolo replies, “some muggle disasters are muggle made, some wizard made, but for everything unexplained, they simply call it a natural disaster.”

“We simply call it magic,” Severus pipes up teasingly, “when there is something unexplained.”

“We usually chalk it up to Potter-luck,” Draco laughs to himself at his own little joke, “that seems to be the way anything gets done at Hogwarts.” He can feel his guardians eyes on him, both staring with emotions Draco doesn’t even dare try to identify. Potter is a sore subject, and he really is silly for blurting it out so casually. He nervously clears his throat, “anyway, it said you were rebirthed too. Did the Ministry think you were dead?”

“They’ve thought I was dead for quite some time,” Marvolo says after a moment of silence, also trying to get back into the flow they had going so effortlessly.

“Why did they think that?” Draco asks, and he lets the conversation drag away from heavier topics and back into lighter ones.

——

He’s in his room when it happens, reading through his new school books. All the shops are closed, so they had to order them by owl. He’s gotten tired of his desk and has sprawled across his bed, blankets strewn about in a way that would drive Dobby wild. It’s just past lunch, and honestly, Draco has almost fallen asleep (who knew the school books only got more boring as he learnt more?).

Then suddenly he feels it, a jarring tug in his magic, a snap and a break. He curls up in pain, grabbing at his chest as if that could ease it. It thrums through him, but more like an echo of pain, rather than the full force of it. He gasps, screwing his eyes shut as it rolls and rips through him. Finally, after the slow seconds of agonising pain, he feels relief.

He uncurls cautiously, slowly making a mental note of his body as he sits up in his bed. He feels fine, no lingering pain, it’s almost like nothing had happened at all. He presses down on his stomach and chest, just in case, just to see if the pain flares up again. Nothing. Now that he’s thinking about it, the pain seemed to be centralised around his magic, not his actual body.

Nervously he leaps to grab his wand and cast a quick Lumos, sighing in relief as his magic responds. With everything he can think of checked off, Draco is left with only one option. He pulls his magic towards his parental bonds and thankfully finds them still intact (if not much weaker than he remembers from his last check. Though, he is getting older, no reason to call on his parents if he can care for himself.)

With everything accounted for, he uneasily chalks it up to random magic, maybe the house misfiring, or one of the guests attempting a new spell. He grabs his Charms book from where it had fallen and calls on Dobby for some tea while he continues his study. 

At dinner, Marvolo doesn’t show up. Severus does, looking more haggard than usual, and over their meal of potatoes and lamb, they don’t talk that much. Both seem a little drained, a little cautious, and neither want to ask why.

He only sees Marvolo as he walks back to his room for the night. The Dark Lord seems to be storming with more power than usual, more anger. He spots Draco from across the hall and strides over, feet thunking on the ground. He grabs Draco’s head around the crown in two hands, just looking down at him before abruptly bringing Draco’s head towards his chest. He holds it in place, and Draco’s arms automatically wind their way around Marvolo.

“Are you okay?” Draco mumbles against Marvolo’s robes.

“Yes, yes, I’m-“ he breaks off, pulling Draco just a little closer, “are you? Did you feel it?”“I felt something in my chest,” Draco tries, "was that because of you?”

Marvolo laughs, he laughs almost manically and then settles, “it was because of someone,” he says, “you don’t have to worry about it. Just, did you feel the links?”

“Of course, I checked them and they’re fine. I don’t think I really need them anymore though,” Draco mentions.

Marvolo wrenches Draco’s head back so they can look eye to eye. “Don’t break them,” he urges, “I need you to keep them intact. You link to my soul, all of it.”

“I won’t then,” Draco replies nervously. This close he can see how Marvolo looks just a bit off. It’s not enough to be called truly worrying, it could even be a trick of the light, but he doesn’t look right at all. His skin is just off, his face slightly different, and it makes Draco more nervous than it should.

Marvolo nods, eyes already darting off. He lets Draco go back to bed with a quiet good night and leaves back the way he came. Draco goes to bed unnerved and doesn’t wake up feeling any better.

——

Taking the Dark Mark is an affair. Luckily for Draco, he doesn’t have to worry as much because he knows the Dark Lord, and he trusts him. He holds out his arm almost eagerly as Marvolo moves forward. The eyes of every Death Eater are on him, those that he knows and those he doesn’t. He can’t see anyone’s face, but he knows the patterns of some of their masks, remembers tracing over them in childlike curiosity.

Marvolo almost tenderly grabs his arm and pushes the sleeve back, training his wand on the pale flesh with utmost care. He’s talking, some grandiose speech about new recruits and the continuation of their cause, but Draco is too nervous to truly hear everything he’s saying.

What he doesn’t expect is the pain, the magic ripples through his arm in waves that burn. Any noise he makes is drowned out by cheers, started by Bellatrix and carried by the rest of the Death Eaters. He doesn’t know whether she’s trying to help him by hiding his pain, or if she is just genuinely reacting to the sight in front of her. She’s always been hard to read.

Severus doesn’t cheer, doesn’t join in the yells of his peers. He watches as Draco’s face screws in pain, reminiscent of a child. He remembers holding him as he cried for food and warmth, promising himself that no harm will come to the child in his care. He’s broken that promise too many times over the last few years, and he vows to never break it again. Anything he can do from here he will.

The pain fades slowly, ebbing and flowing as the mark settles under his skin. Draco wants to reach out and hug Marvolo, but he knows he can’t, not with so many untrustworthy eyes in the room. He settles for breathing through his teeth as he forces his body to stand straight and not waver. He can’t show weakness now, not after the worst of it is finally over, or at least that’s what he thinks.

Then the Dark Lord straightens to address the room, even as he talks to Draco.

“Draco,” he starts, “I have a task that I must entrust to you. A task no other in my ranks can perform, a task that will help the Dark Side immensely, as your parents had done. Do you accept.” It should be a question, but his tone clearly shows that he expects the right answer.

With eyes bearing down on him, never mind Marvolo staring expectantly, there’s really only one answer he can give. “Yes,” he breathes.

As further cheers rise up around the room, Marvolo leans down to his ear and whispers the tasks, something that makes his stomach drop even as the crowd continues their roars.

——

Harry, Hermione and Ron have just left the Weasley’s new store, they’ve spent more money than strictly necessary but the treats were worth it. It’s the only shop open, really, everything else closed in fear. It leaves the lane dark, washed out, almost haunted.

They’re having a great time with themselves, sharing the lollies and listening to Ron complain about the family discounts or the lack of them.

Across the lane they spot a smudge of blond hair, hurrying quickly along.

“Is that Draco?” Harry asks, midway through one of Ron’s intensely angry spiels.

“I think so,” Hermione answers, also grateful for the distraction (not that she didn’t love listening to Ron go on and on about nothing. (She isn’t sure if that’s sarcasm or not.)) “What’s he doing out by himself? Aren’t Crabbe and Goyle always with him?”

“Better for him if they’re not,” Ron mutters angrily, still not over their apparent betrayal in the Ministry Fight. He too peaks around the corner, ready to call out for him when Bellatrix steps out of the shadows. The trio scramble back out of sight as she gently reaches out to scruff Draco’s hair, and leads him away.

They cautiously follow, always out of sight and just out of hearing range.

“Do you think he’s okay?” Harry asks as they scuttle along, “is she hurting him?”

“She’s his aunt, Harry,” Hermione urges quietly, “I don’t think she’s hurting him.” Honestly, it looks much more familial than that. Bellatrix seems to be teasing in her words, leading Draco down the lanes protectively while wearing a grin.

They watch cautiously as Draco is lead in the darker, seedier lanes, and then pushed gently into a store. They tuck themselves next to a window to try and see inside and get a front-row seat to Draco being greeted by several people in dark robes. A few greet Draco warmly, with familial touches or gentle pats. None of them hug him, but there’s enough to clearly see the warmth between them, even if it’s slightly muted.

Something is going on in there, something not quite right. They watch closely, almost being caught by one of the men who seems to sense them looking in. He closes the curtains and their view is cut off.

They look to each other but decide to leave it alone. There’s no use bursting in or attempting anything, best to go home and worry about it later.

——

“No, Hermione,” Harry tries for the fiftieth time, “why else would Draco go to what is obviously some sort of Death Eater meet up?”

“His family, for one,” Hermione says, “the fact that he has known associates there, which is the same as my first point but no less valid.”

“The food maybe,” Ron tries, “they could make a nice scone, and you know how far he’d go for anything apple flavoured.”

“Do you think he’s being coerced? Dark magic, maybe?” Harry presses.

Hermione sighs, “Harry,” she huffs, “if Draco was under any kind of dark magic it would be visible to us, but you saw him. He didn’t seem overly nervous, he didn’t look dazed or confused, he seemed fine. Do you want something terrible to have happened to him?”

“No,” Harry mutters, looking away. He sits still for only a second before jumping up and grabbing something out of his bag, “I’m going to get some air, I’ll see you in the Great Hall later.”

“Sure,” Ron calls out to Harry’s back as he runs off through the carriages. He and Hermione share a look, both of them knowing exactly where Harry is going to.

Draco is having a much less argumentative time with his friends in his own carriage, happily gossiping with Pansy, Blaise and Theo, as well as catching up with any news he had missed (either purposefully obscured to him or through other things catching his eye).

“There was an article on Hogwarts and Dumbledore the other day,” Pansy mentions as she unwraps her sugar quill, “it was talking about how he left, and technically had a warrant out for his arrest for a while. Also mentioned Umbridge, though I don’t know if the Ministry is on her side or not.”

“How could the Ministry possibly still support her?” Draco scoffs, breaking a chunk off of his chocolate wand to pop in his mouth, “honestly. She was horrible, what redeeming features could she have?”

“She supports a few important bills,” Theo pipes up, one hand holding open a book on the table as the other helps him articulate his thoughts, “she’s not going to be putting forward anything or doing anything of note yet, but she’ll be passing bills that the Ministry wants to be passed.”

“She’s also vocally against Dumbledore and Hogwarts,” Pansy says, her tongue just tinted blue, “and you know how the Ministry feels about that.”

“Hogwarts isn’t amazing though,” Draco adds, “I mean, who let Lockhart and Quirrel become our teachers in the first place, not to mention the insanity of the Triwizard Tournament.” He looks to Crabbe and Goyle, just to gauge how his statement has landed on the group but finds them both staring at a spot just to the left of everyone. It’s a seemingly blank wall, but as Draco finds himself staring at it too he can see a soft flicker of light off of something invisible.

He smiles softly and passes the two a chocolate cauldron each, signally with a quick flick of his eyes that it’s fine. Goyle still takes an extra look at the spot before accepting the treat and eating it. Draco slips himself back into the conversation, each taking turns to list the few faults they can find in Hogwarts before the train comes to a slow stop at the school itself.

“You guys go ahead,” Draco hums, “I need to check something before I leave.”

“We’ll stay with you,” Crabbe offers, although he’s already halfway out of his chair.

“No, I’ll be fine,” Draco insists, “you’ve already checked the carriage for dangers, what’s the worst that could happen?” They both stare at him for an extra second, and to be fair his wording seemed to be tempting fate, but they still leave. 

Draco stands and flicks down the blinds. He double-checks the door is closed as well, and then slowly turns around.

“Did no one ever tell you it was rude to eavesdrop, Harry?” Draco calls out to the empty carriage.

After a beat, Harry pulls the cloak off of himself with a guilty grin, “was I that obvious?”

“Crabbe and Goyle picked up on you,” Draco admits, “I just followed their gaze.”

“I swear those two have unnatural senses,” Harry says conspiratorially, folding his cloak back up, “I don’t know how they do it.”

“With years of practice, I imagine,” Draco laughs, watching as Harry screws up his face and mouths ‘practice’ with visible disdain.

Draco does a quick sweep of Harry with his eyes, just to make sure he’s okay. Unknown to him Harry does the same. Slowly they make their way closer to each other, Harry trying to see any signs of anything on Draco that could ease his worries or kick him into serious action. They get right together, silent for a second as they just get used to being near each other again.

“I’ve really missed you,” Draco breathes, throwing his arms around Harry in almost reckless abandon. Harry finds this just another thing to add to the slowly growing pile of ‘Draco Malfoy concerns.’

“I’ve missed you too,” Harry says, hugging him back, “though, I have to ask you something.”

“What?” Draco asks, pulling back a little to look in Harry’s eyes nervously. It makes him feel so guilty, to ask something as horrible as the questions piling in his mind. What would he do if Draco said no? How awful would that make Harry, thinking something like that of him? But what would he do is Draco said yes, would he want to know?

“How were your holidays?” Harry asks weakly, watching as Draco lights up and starts to tell him off his time off school. Harry listens through his talk, and they get their bags (finding that Hermione and Ron have left to go to the hall, which Harry is grateful for).

They walk down to the thestral drawn carriages together, both hopping into one of the last ones available. Through the ride, the storytelling changes hands as Harry explains his holidays, mostly dull though they are. About halfway through Draco gently drops his head onto Harry’s shoulder, making appropriate noises in the appropriate gaps.

At the gate they join a small line of students clutching their bags, waiting for the security to clear them.

“What’s this for?” Draco murmurs softly as they wait patiently.

“I guess everyone is just freaked out about Voldemort,” Harry whispers back, “at least it’s not dementors.”

Draco shivers, remembering the absolute awfulness of the dementors. He’s glad it’s just human security this time, not some soul-sucking flying demon. They wait in line together until they get to the front, where Harry is waved through almost immediately and with nothing more than a token glance inside his bag. Draco takes a lot longer.

First, he has to completely unpack his bag, then he has to unfold every item of clothing, and then he has to open every book and shake them out.

“If you could, we need to check you aren’t wearing any dark magic either,” the security man says, holding out a hand as if to take his cloak. Draco takes it off and hands it over, letting the guard look over it. Suddenly the guard takes out his wand.

“What are you doing?” Draco asks as the other does a few complex movements with it.

“I’ll have to undo any unknown charms in your clothes, for security you see,” the guard says.

“They’re just warming charms,” Draco protests.

“Yeah, they’re harmless,” Harry pipes up from where he had been watching the exchange.

The guard looks a little put-out but continues with his examination anyway. “We also need to check for hidden compartments in your luggage,” he says, motioning over to the bag again. 

“It’s perfectly safe, I assure you,” the voice of Snape drawls, the man himself having glided up to the group silently, “I must ask that you return Mr Malfoy’s items as he needs to return to the Great Hall.”

The guard almost doesn’t, hesitating just too long before dumping everything back into Draco’s bag. He silently mourns his previously organised system, as well as the creases he’ll have to get out of some of his shirts. Severus gently holds a hand to Draco’s back as they walk, a silent comfort that Draco didn’t realise he needed. Harry also looks at him with sympathetic eyes, but Draco knows that Snape being there is preventing him from saying anything.

Once they enter the Great Hall, Severus separates from them to find the teacher’s table, while Harry has to take a few steps away to sit with his own friends, who both look a little nervous at their lateness.

They fill dinner and dessert with idle chatter, and after the plates are cleared away Dumbledore takes the stage. Draco watches nervously as he walks up, feeling like all he needs to do is see him to realise what Draco has to do. 

He talks about them all being searched, about the rise of Voldemort, although he calls him by his name. It’s weird hearing someone else say his name, even if it’s the one that Marvolo doesn’t even like. He makes a bold proclamation about the evilness of the Dark Side before sending them all to bed. It makes Draco shaky, reality pouring down on him in a way it hadn’t before. He’s suddenly terrified of the year ahead.

——

Draco’s first lesson in potions had gone…okay. Having Slughorn as a teacher was a new experience, though not necessarily a bad one. The teaching style was different, a lot more encouragement than he was used to. Slughorn even congratulated someone just for effort, never mind that any further mishaps to their terrible potions would have had it exploding.

The first class was fun though, Slughorn letting them all take a whiff of amortentia. He, of course, could smell the smells that make up Harry, quidditch and fields and intense magic, though he could get a hint of his parents as well. The alive ones, he can’t remember what his actual parents smelled like.

Harry and Ron have even managed to snag themselves a spot in Slughorn’s class, though neither of them were planning on it after their results the previous year. The surprising thing was Harry’s luck. Though Draco hadn’t managed to share a class with him, Hermione and Ron drag him into an argument about Harry’s skill in potions.

Harry is guarding an old potions book with everything he has, holding it out of reach against his chest. Hermione and Ron are trying to convince him to hand it over, and Draco gets pulled along by the fun of it.

“Just let us see,” Draco tries, cozying up next to him in an effort to snatch it, “please?”

Harry whips his head around to stare at Draco with narrowed eyes, “this is my book, and the binding is fragile. Besides, I’m not letting you cheat off of me, no matter how many puppy eyes you send me.”

“Puppy?” Draco finds himself whispering as Ron makes a grab for it.

“C’mon mate,” Ron tries, “if you show us we can all pull our grades up. Then we can stay in the class with you.”

“Ron, we’re partners,” Harry deadpans, “you’re already being helped by me and this Half-Blood Prince's book.”

“That’s so sweet of you, helping your friend,” Draco hums. He leans over and kisses Harry, planting his lips on firmly as his hand sneaks to grab the book. When he tries to slip it out of Harry’s grasp he finds the book almost immovable.

Harry pulls back out of the kiss with a teasing grin. “Aw, thanks,” he says, “but you’re not getting the book.” He gently taps it on Draco’s thigh, but then shoves it straight back against his chest.

“At least let us show a teacher,” Hermione says, “in case something in there is dangerous.”

Harry squints at her, “it’s a school book, and I’ll only be using the stuff in here in class, so it doesn’t matter. If anything is dangerous Slughorn will stop me before anything happens.”

Draco would say something about Slughorn’s reliability but he’s still recovering from his plans being destroyed. Harry tucks the book away and makes a big show of warding it, but their argument is laid to rest as Ron picks up the topic of the Slug Club. Draco is still feeling a little put-out, (although, technically he was the one trying to use their relationship for personal gains. Harry still should have let him though,) but he relents when Harry pulls him to his side and they stay cuddled together. He almost revokes his forgiveness when Harry plants a rather obnoxious kiss on his forehead but decides to let it lie.

——

Harry has been expecting private lessons for a while. After last year, he figured that Dumbledore would be teaching him, (or at least, anyone who wasn’t Snape). What surprised him was the content of these lessons. He went into Dumbledore’s office ready to cast spells, ready to be hit with spells, but instead, he was treated to a literal trip down memory lane, looking at Voldemort.

It was interesting, looking at Dumbledore’s memories of Tom Riddle. The name rang a bell somewhere in his mind, he remembered seeing it once before but he couldn’t quite place where. Maybe in one of the award cabinets, while he was looking at everything he might have just picked it up.

The memories aren’t particularly informative. He learns that Voldemort is an orphan and that he’s incredibly magically talented. He watches with bated breath as little Tom accepts Dumbledore’s offer to come to Hogwarts. He’s got a box of things, to Harry it seems like he’s just hoarding his own things, keeping them safe, (Harry knows he’s had to do that before, hide his things away from the Dursley’s just to keep them safe another day. He had his own space, hidden under loose floorboards, but he never showed anyone.) 

The main thing that strikes him is how normal he looks. There’s no crazed glint in his eye or murderous intent hidden in his actions. He’s just a little kid, if not one that’s cautious and nervous about the man in front of him. He seems confident in himself if his refusal for help in Diagon Alley was anything to go by, but it didn’t feel particularly aggressive. It just means he doesn’t trust Dumbledore maybe, or that he would just prefer to work alone. Sometimes he says things that make Harry blink, but doesn’t every child?

“He just agreed?” Harry asks when they exit the memory together, “to come to Hogwarts, with no evidence it was an actual school. Even I was tentative, though I guess I didn’t know I could do magic so it might be different.”

“He did,” Dumbledore explains with his twinkling smile, “he always wanted to be different, held onto anything that could make him so.” He laughs a little, “you know, he met another Tom in Diagon Alley, and he decided then he would change his name. I believe that’s when he started working on the name Voldemort.”

“Just couldn’t handle being ordinary,” Harry mutters, “I guess he got his wish in the end.”

“Indeed he has,” Dumbledore agrees, a sadder smile this time. He sends Harry on his way not too long after, with a promise for more lessons and more information. Honestly, Harry finds it a bit odd that he’s learning about Voldemort, rather than learning about how to fight him, but there’s time. He’s confident that he’ll learn everything by the fight, and he’ll have his friends by his side, so what’s the harm in watching memories?

——

Draco does come to the Gryffindor tryouts, which sends a few people into angry squawks until Harry shuts them all up and reminds them about the game. He has a second of uncertainty as people keep talking over them but as Ginny shushes the crowd he becomes much more confident. Draco is happy for him, getting captain, he really deserves it. Crabbe and Goyle are on the opposite stands, Draco has pushed them away so much this year they’ve taken to guarding from a distance. (He can’t let them get involved in his task, he just can’t.) Hermione sits next to him as they watch the people take off into the air, showing off on brooms and almost playing with the balls.

Ron begins his trial, nervousness pouring off of him in almost palpable waves. Draco manages to snag a look at Lavender nervously looking up at him. (Now, Draco isn’t against his friends being in relationships, and not even against them being in mushy relationships, he knows he and Harry do get very touchy every now and again. But really? Lavender? Honestly. They’ve barely been together a week and yet Draco is already tired of them.)

He and Hermione watch as Ron bats the first few balls away successfully, if with some unusual methods, and cheer him on from the sidelines. Cormac keeps up with him though and seems just as good, if not better. 

Draco barely notices it, but he manages to catch Hermione casting an almost silent charm under her breath, and suddenly Cormac is doing a lot worse. Ron seems more confident with his competition clearly struggling and manages to get the last one away with a flip that looks very impressive. Draco claps from the sidelines even as he shoots a look at Hermione.

“What?” She mutters self consciously.

“You should’ve been in Slytherin,” Draco says proudly, “all three of you.” Hermione blushes but doesn’t deny it. After the tryouts Harry sends everyone away, claiming the need to think on positions very carefully. He catches up with Ron as Hermione and Draco make their way down. When they get to the bottom Ron is smiling like an idiot, and Harry is clapping him on the shoulder.

“You were really good,” Hermione says, “I’m sure you’ll make the team.”

“It’s a shame what happened to Cormac though,” Draco buts in, just because he likes adding drama, “but you really were terrific, Ron.”

“Thanks you two,” Ron says, sweeping them both into a hug, “I reckon I got it but Harry is being cryptic.”

“I can’t tell you outright,” Harry huffs, “it would be unfair to everyone, especially Cormac.”

“Speaking of,” Ron announces, “Cormac fancies you, Hermione.”

“Cormac?” Draco and Hermione yell at exactly the same time.

“He’s vile,” Hermione adds, screwing up her face.

“Physically attractive, but horrible personality,” Draco agrees, “I would advise against it.”

“Physically attractive?” Harry repeats, somewhat nervous.

“Or so I’m told,” Draco rushes to assure, “Pansy’s been on the prowl with Blaise, they’re sorting through the Quidditch team now and I have to listen to them prattle on.”

“He wanted to get to know you better, apparently,” Ron says, bulldozing over Draco and Harry’s conversation, “though I see I shouldn’t tell him to continue?”

“Please don’t,” Hermione mutters, placing a hand to her head as if to cradle it.

“Anyway,” Harry coughs to gain their attention, “Draco, it’ll be fun playing against you again this year.” He smiles, a little quirk of his lips.

“I’m sorry,” Draco feels terrible for ruining the good mood, but he can’t lie, “I quit Quidditch, actually.”

“You quit?” Harry asks, looking concerned, “why?”

“Things were just getting too busy this year,” Draco says nervously, “this year is going to be super rushed and I just wanted to focus more on my studies.” It’s true, if only partly. The Gryffindors share a look that Draco can’t decipher, but Hermione breaks the silence with a tense smile.

“You’ll just sit on the bench with me for all the games then,” she says, “it’ll be just as fun.”

“And a lot less dangerous,” Harry adds, “though you never get the cursed bludgers.”

Draco smiles at him, rolling his eyes playfully, “I’m not important enough for them.”

Harry grins at him, and the rest of the conversation flows easily, with them hashing out and arguing about the various dangers they’ve found themselves in. It’s a relief that it went so well, but Draco knows it isn’t going to last. 

——

On one of their free weekends, Draco, Hermione, Ron and Harry bustle themselves down to the Three Broomsticks. They have a nice drink together, butterbeers for all and chatter to spread around, especially gossip that Draco has come across during the week. Then, Draco swishes his wand in the air and the time pops up.

“Oh,” Draco says, dabbing at his mouth delicately with a napkin, “I’ve got to go, sorry. I promised Pansy I would help her and Theo shop around, Blaise will probably be there too. And Crabbe and Goyle said if I didn’t meet up with the group by three they would send out a search party.”

“You’ve been hanging out with them a lot recently,” Ron comments, “running off all the time, have they got something going on?”

“They’re just my other friends, and I was kind of neglecting them last year,” Draco admits, “I felt a little bad about it, considering all the time I’ve spent with you all.” He swings his bag onto his shoulder, giving Harry a quick peck as he stands.

“See you back at Hogwarts then?” Harry asks, “or will you be trapped with them all day.”

Draco smirks at him, “we’ll see how it goes.” He gives a quick wave and strolls out, the door swinging shut with a clank behind him.

“He has been running off a lot lately,” Harry mutters, letting his chin rest on his hand.

Hermione scoffs, “honestly Harry, you heard him, he’s meeting with his friends. Don’t tell me you think he’s up to something.”

“I know, I know,” Harry defends himself quickly, “I’m just worried is all.”

“Well, worry less,” Ron butts in, “we’ve got a bigger problem.” He motions to just behind them, and Harry looks to see Ginny and Dean sitting together at a table.

“They’re only holding hands,” Hermione huffs, “and snogging,” she allows after a beat. “But Harry and Draco were just sitting in front of you, Ron, so you shouldn’t have any problem with them.”

“I have to leave,” Ron insists.

“You’re being ridiculous,” Hermione says, “what, you would expect her to leave if she saw us kissing, or something.” Her cheeks flame, but luckily they’re all saved from whatever Ron’s response may be as Slughorn comes up to the table and Harry rises to meet him. He barely gets through the pleasantries before Slughorns is barrelling over him.

“Oh, I used to come to this place when it was the One Broomstick,” Slughorn laughs, obviously tipsy, “we go way back. Anyway, my boy, there’s something I wanted to ask you. Back in the day, I used to have a special club for some of my students, and I was thinking of starting it back up again. I was wondering if you wanted to join.”

“I’d be delighted,” Harry replies, “I’m sure it will be fun.” He’s not quite got the hang of Slytherin smooth-talking but he thinks that attempt was pretty good. Either way, Slughorn seems appeased.

“You too, Granger,” he says, motioning at Hermione still sitting down.

“Thank you, you’ll see me there,” Hermione responds, gracious as ever. 

“And good to see you, Wonald,” Slughorn adds, before tottering himself away with a promise of sending an owl. After he leaves the awkwardness between the three rises and Harry desperately ushers them all out again to try and at least distract them from all the embarrassing conversations. They’re walking back down the snowy path when they hear two girls in front of them arguing, but they can’t quite make out any of the words.

“Did you hear what Hermione said,” Ron asks, for what feels like the fiftieth time, “about us snogging?”

“Yes,” Harry repeats, “I did.”

Any further repetition is cut off by a terrible scream, one of the girls having fallen to the ground.

“Katie,” the other one is saying, “are you okay?” The three rush over, but by the time they get there Katie is already floating to the air with a long agonised screech. She seems possessed, just screaming and being suspended in the air as if it were water. Her body is tugged violently from side to side, and then she suddenly drops again, utterly silent. 

Hagrid comes running by, and scoops Katie up to take her away to the hospital wing, and tells everyone to stay away from the necklace. When the trio make it back to the school, it’s already abuzz with gossip and several students come up to them to ask about it. Harry doesn’t really want to talk about it, and neither to Ron and Hermione, so they send the students on their way to Hagrid or McGonagal.

Draco comes running up to them about an hour later, going to hug Harry immediately. 

“I heard someone got hurt,” he says frantically, “what happened?”

“This girl, Katie, she had a necklace or something. It was cursed,” Harry explains, “she’s in the hospital wing.”

If at all possible, Draco gets paler, “did she drop dead?” he asks shakily.

“No, no,” Harry assures, “she’s okay, just hurt.”

“She was screaming,” Ron says, “like she was being tortured. Something pulled her up into the air and she just kept screaming.” 

“Oh,” Draco mumbles, hunching in on himself, pulling away as tears fill his eyes. He flinches away from Harry’s hand on his shoulder, looking gaunt.

“She’ll make a full recovery,” Harry says, “and they’re looking for whoever did it. It’s okay, we’re all safe here.”

“I-“ Draco’s voice cracks and Harry can hear a sob building in his throat. Draco coughs slightly to clear it before continuing, “I need to go back to my dorm, I’ll see you all later.” He rushes off again before any of them can say anything. They watch him go, and Hermione rests her hand on Harry’s shoulder in comfort.

“Give him a second,” she says, “he’s just scared.” Harry nods to himself, staying silent. Not too long after that the three of them are shepherded into McGonagall's office, where they’re interviewed about what happened.

Draco doesn’t come to dinner, and Harry watches his empty seat for the whole meal.

——

Ron comes in raging, stomping up to his bed and slumping down onto it with a muffled thud. Harry looks over to watch Ron cross his arms with a huff, a tight frown on his face.

“Are you okay?” Harry asks cautiously, putting his book down.

“What do you think she sees in him?” Ron demands.

“Who?” Harry questions, confused, “Lavender? Or Hermione?”

“Ginny,” Ron huffs again and sits up, “her and Dean. Them? Together? Why? What would make them attracted to each other.”

Now, Harry is not a romantic boy, in fact how he and Draco got together is a mystery to him, so he decides to trust his gut and spits out the first thing that comes to mind. “Her skin, maybe? She’s got nice skin.” His gut is a traitor. He’s never listening to it again.

“Her skin?” Ron considers, “you mean like, if it’s soft or something? Is that why you like Draco?”

“Yeah,” Harry rushes, “Draco has soft skin, I guess. Nice to…touch.”

“Hermione has nice skin,” Ron says, out of the blue.

“Sure,” Harry agrees, “does Lavender?”

Ron blinks, “yeah, I guess,” he mutters, a lot more lacklustre. He takes a breath and flops back down onto his bed. Harry watches for another second, suddenly worried.

“If you don’t like her-“

“I do!” Ron cuts him off, “just, not her skin.” He nods to himself and then closes the blinds between them.

“Good night,” Harry calls out, hearing the faint echo of Ron’s reply as he settles down again. He wants to ask Ron more, to talk about it and try and tease out his feelings just to make sure everything is okay, but he’s not sure where to start. And Harry is barely good at his own emotions, he doesn’t want to attempt diving into someone else’s.

He puts his book away and goes to sleep, giving himself a mental note to pick the conversation back up again at a later date. (He doesn’t.)

——

Harry is the Boy-Who-Lived, he’s a saviour of the Wizarding world, he (is widely believed to have) defeated the Dark Lord as a babe. Harry should not get nervous from attending one of Slughorn’s parties and yet here he is, nervous. It’s not a big deal really, just a steady drum of his heart as the people around him talk about their families accomplishments. What should he say when Slughorn asks about his family, ‘oh, I’m sure they would’ve been great but they’re dead’?

His only solace is Hermione, who has to nervously explain to them all what dentists are after Slughorn turns the question on her.

“They’re like doctors, for your teeth,” Hermione explains, “very smart.”

“Is it considered a dangerous profession?” Slughorn asks.

“No,” Hermione admits, “but one time this boy bit my father on the hand, he had to have ten stitches.” Harry feels himself smile at that but no one else seems to get it. Awkward silence settles across the room, only broken by the door creaking open.

Draco is holding it, helping to usher Ginny into the room.

“Ah, Miss Weasley,” Slughorn greets, “and Mr Malfoy,” he says a little differently, “welcome! Take a seat, you’re just in time for dessert.”

Draco slides himself into a spare seat next to Harry, while Ginny takes a seat further down the table.

“They’ve been fighting, right?” Hermione asks Draco.

“Yes, I found her crying in the hallway,” Draco admits, “thought to walk her here, I was already going to be late.”

At Harry’s confused look, Hermione adds, “it’s in the eyes, Harry, you can always see it in the eyes.”

“What were you doing late though?” Harry asks Draco, a little suspiciously.

“I lost track of time studying,” Draco replies evenly, though there’s a soft tint of pink to his cheeks. Harry squints at him for a second, before forgetting the entire event when Draco carefully slides him a scoop of his ice cream.

“We were talking about family occupations, yes?” Slughorn begins again, “Mr Malfoy, why don’t you tell us about your family?”

“Well,” Draco breathes evenly even though he’s clenching Harry’s hand under the table, “my parents, unfortunately, passed away when I was very young, although I heard they were very competent business people. My uncle Severus, I’m sure you all know, is a very successful potions master,” he throws a sharp smirk across the table, “brilliant at potions, the youngest potion master of our time. Of course, I hope to outdo him, with the help of your extensive connections.”

“Of course,” Slughorn says, “that’s why we’re all here. What about you Miss Weasley, you’ve had many brothers pass through Hogwarts. Any paths you’d like to follow?”

While Ginny recounts her aspirations, Harry gently squeezes Draco’s hand, and Draco squeezes back. 

“He hates my parents,” Draco breathes quietly, “I think I’m only here because of Severus. Though, he won’t tell me, of course.”

“Maybe it’s because of me,” Harry jokes, and Draco shoots him a look, one eyebrow raised and eyes sharp, “or maybe it’s because of your laser eyes.” Draco scoffs at that, mouth quirking upwards and Harry counts it as a win. At the end of the night, Draco leaves as one of the first, only stopping to say a quick goodbye to Harry and Hermione. Harry hangs back and waits for Slughorn to close the door behind everyone before clearing his throat.

“Oh, Harry,” Slughorn says, “I didn’t realise you were still here.”

“Yeah, just got caught up, admiring all your things,” Harry tries, motioning at the trinkets around the room, “and your stand?”

“My shelf,” Slughorn corrects, “anyone who wants to be anyone ends up on my shelf.” He says it quite proudly, showing off a few of the pictures scattered around.

“Is Voldemort on your shelf?” Harry asks, then realising he’s gone too fast he amends, “he killed my parents, sir, I just want to know why.”

“I thought the Malfoy’s killed your parents,” Slughorn says tentatively as if Harry doesn’t know. (It was all over the papers a few weeks ago, Harry and his friends had tried to clear Sirius’ name, but instead, the Daily only picked up on the fact that the Malfoy’s had been responsible for Harry parents’ death. They still stuck with their story that Voldemort was killed by baby Harry though, said that ‘the Potters fought valiantly against the Malfoy’s managing to overpower them, when suddenly You-know-who came through and killed them all, only to be stopped by young Harry.’ It drove them all mad, to be honest.)

“On Voldemort’s orders, and there’s nothing I can do about them,” Harry sighs, “I just want to know about the one at the top, I already know all about the Malfoys.”

“I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint you, Harry,” Slughorn admits softly, “when I knew Tom Riddle, he was an ordinary, if not brilliant, boy. There’s nothing I could help you with.”

Harry absorbs that with a nod, “well, thank you, anyway.”

“No problem, my boy,” Slughorn says, “now, off to bed with you, I’ll see in you in class.” Harry leaves with a quiet goodnight and makes his way back to the dorms. Ron is waiting up for him, but neither of them feel like talking. They fall asleep to the sound of Dean snoring.

——

Harry has been watching Ron gripe and groan and worry about Quidditch for what feels like hours. In reality, it’s only been a few minutes as they eat their breakfast, but time seems to drag. Harry’s equally nervous, if not a tad more. Any failure from any team member feels like his responsibility. If they lose it’s on him, if they win it’s on the team.

It seems to get worse after Lavender pops by and gives Ron a quick kiss and some encouragement. Ron instead hissing to them that he’s resigning. That’s when Harry gets an idea, and he carefully pours something into a cup of pumpkin juice before sliding it over.

“You look terrible, Ron,” Luna pipes up from beside them, a massive lion head sitting on her own, “is that why you put something in his drink Harry?”

“Uh, yeah,” Harry says, shoving the vial of liquid luck back into his pocket. Both of his friends' eyes track the movement.

“Don’t-“ Hermione tries but Ron has already finished the cup in one gulp, rushing it down his throat. He doesn’t choke, miraculously, but he has to wipe some remnants off his lips. “You could be expelled for that,” Hermione hisses to both of them.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Harry retorts, staring straight ahead and not looking guilty at all. Ron seems energised by it though, more excited than before. He hurries Harry down to the field and insists on getting ready for the game.

During the match he’s at his best, knocking balls away from the goals with enormous skill. Every time the Slytherins seem to get an impossible shot, and every time Ron seems to save it somehow. Harry can feel Hermione glaring at his back, but he doesn’t let it bother him. Ron is playing at his best, and it’s benefitting everyone. He even sees Draco cheering out of the corner of his eye, almost equally for both sides but with a bit more Gryffindor pride than he’s used to.

They win easily, almost embarrassingly so. The snow kicked up behind frantic players settles once more like a blanket over the field. A welcome one as the Gryffindor team shares a few enthusiastic hugs on the field.

They retire back to the common room, cheers still going up like horns around them, and chants of ‘Weasley!’ perking up every now and again. Ron soaks up the attention, hanging happily with his new adoring fans, and Harry is perfectly fine with watching him have a great time.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Hermione hisses when she bumps into him, “you could have gotten in trouble.”

“Suppose I could have just used a confundus instead,” Harry shoots back.

Hermione looks scandalised, “Draco told you, didn’t he?” She takes a breath and visibly shakes off the thought, “it doesn’t matter though, those were tryouts. This was a game.”

Harry silently slips the vial of liquid luck out of his pocket, shaking it as if to demonstrate it’s fullness. Hermione watches it closely, considering it. “I just watered down his juice,” Harry admits, “nothing more than a placebo.”

Ron is standing on a table, a drink almost tipping out of his hand. Lavender approaches him, and they meet in a somewhat sloppy liplock. Harry cheers with the crowd and goes to nudge Hermione, but his elbow hits only empty air. He looks around for a second, but she’s nowhere to be seen, and so he quietly excuses himself and slips to the quieter areas of the tower.

He finds her sitting on some steps, sniffling softly as she holds back sobs. As he approaches she quickly wipes her tears away, though the red rims are easy to spot. He suddenly understands what Draco and Hermione meant when they told him you could tell troubles from looking at people’s eyes.

He sits down next to her, giving her ample opportunity to shove him away, and when she doesn’t he just sits by her and lets her rest her head on his shoulder with a thunk. They settle into silence for a while, before Hermione’s tearful voice breaks it. 

“Have you ever seen Draco with one of his other friends? Acting close, like they liked each other more than usual?” She whispers, voice still a little wavy and choked.

“I haven’t,” Harry says, equally soft, “should I have?”

“No,” Hermione laughs sadly, “I just- I wanted to know if you’ve ever felt like I do.”

Ron and Lavender come bustling down the stairs, giggling like they’re having the time of their lives. They come across the two of them, and Harry tries to silently signal that they should give Hermione some space.

Lavender seems to pick up on the message, tugging on Ron’s arms with a quiet, “seems like this room is taken.” Ron seems hesitant, looking at Harry for confirmation. He nods, ever so slightly, and Ron reluctantly wonders off somewhere else with Lavender clinging to his arm.

Hermione just starts sobbing all over again, and Harry just holds her until she’s exhausted her tears.

——

The cupboard has been a stretch of his abilities, it’s a lot harder than he anticipated. Draco can get inanimate objects through now, after hours of work, and even live objects like apples. Sometimes they come back a little brown, but it’s a lot better than dead.

But animals? They never come back alive. Draco fiddles with the charms, checks over the outside of the cupboard, and even hits it a few times as if that will help. Harry had told him it was a magical fix he used a lot at home, though it doesn’t work for Draco. 

He feels terrible whenever he sends a bird in and it comes back still and cold, he spends half his time giving the birds gentle burials outside in the gardens. He keeps working at it though, tweaking things here and there, never confident enough to try and go in himself. It feels draining, spending hours to fix something he’s not even sure can be fixed.

He’s been pushing away his friends too. Crabbe and Goyle always follow from a distance now, Draco constantly refusing to allow them inside the room. His Slytherin crew have been missing him a lot lately too, he’s blown them off more times than he can count. His homework is slipping behind, his marks falling gently but clearly, he can see some of his more observant teachers becoming concerned. Some of the quidditch team this year even invited him to be a reserve seeker, but he had to turn them down.

The only people he consistently sees anymore are Harry, Ron and Hermione. He at least tries to keep up appearances with them, pretending that nothing is wrong. He always casts a tiny glamour over any eye bags, though he’s sure Harry has seen through them a couple of times. They keep trying to help him, but Draco isn’t getting them involved. This is his task, and as much as that fills him with pride he also knows that it’s dangerous. 

He doesn’t want to think past fixing the cabinet. Doesn’t want to contemplate what his family will do once they come through. In the seconds he does so before he catches himself, he likes to imagine that they’ll come through peacefully, mostly a symbol rather than an actual battle. Though his thoughts are often clouded by what he’ll have to do once they come through.

Draco taps the cabinet with his wand again, letting out a sigh as his diagnosis spells find nothing wrong with it once again, and decides to try again later. He has time, but not enough. Besides, he has to go to dinner, or he’ll not have eaten a meal all day.

——

Slughorn’s party is surprisingly fun. Harry and Draco had invited each other, mainly to rub their relationship in Slughorn’s face. Draco had even taken time out of his busy schedule to order matching robes, in a dashing shade of green that ‘matched his eyes’, with silver trim that also, ‘matched his eyes.’ Harry is almost convinced it’s because those are Slytherin colours, but he doesn’t really care enough about fashion to point it out.

Draco walks in with his gleefully, a smile on his face that doesn’t seem fake. He almost waltzes up to Hermione, who’s milling nervously near the food table.

“You both look dashing,” she says gracefully as they approach, “if not a tad overdressed.”

“You wound me,” Draco gasps, “overdressed. As if that’s even a thing.”

“Hello Harry, Draco,” Luna greets from beside Hermione, “I like your cloaks. I wore silver too.” Indeed she did, a long silver dress with several puffs and pleats seemingly wherever she wanted them to be. It wasn’t like anything you’d find in a fashion store, but it wasn’t an eyesore by any stretch of the imagination.

“Thank you for bringing her,” Harry whispers as Draco and Luna complement each other’s outfits.

Hermione smiles, waving him off, “it’s no problem. Luna’s sweet, and much better than Cormac.” They both look over to where Cormac is licking something off his fingers, whatever it is appears to also be smeared around his mouth. Hermione shudders and moves herself into the conversation with Draco and Luna.

While Harry is distracted, Neville bumps into him. He’s wearing a white uniform like the other servers are.

“Hey, Neville,” Harry greets, “how are you?”

“I’m doing well,” Neville says, moving to straighten up a glass on his tray and almost tipping the whole thing onto the carpet. “I couldn’t get into the Slugclub, but I don’t mind this. We get towels.” Harry briefly scrunches his face in confusion but decides if Neville’s happy, Harry should just let him be. 

When Harry turns back around to try and find his group, he sees they’ve migrated just outside to a balcony, only a sheer curtain hiding them from view. Their giggling when he pulls back the curtain makes him feel like he’s walked into a terrible trap.

“What are you doing out here?” He asks, taking a quick look around.

“Hiding from Cormac,” Draco whispers conspiratorially.

“I may have suggested we could maybe go on a date because I thought it might make Ron mad,” Hermione explains, “we never made a time though, and I don’t really want to.”

“Just tell him you’ve changed your mind,” Harry says.

“That’s easy for you to say!” Draco retorts, “you don’t have someone following you around, it can be terribly uncomfortable.”

“He does,” Hermione admits, “didn’t you tell him about Romilda Vane? She wants to date him because he’s the chosen one.”

“I am the chosen one,” Harry says, only to get gently whacked by Hermione. Draco laughs at him, his hand held politely in front of his face only slightly muffling the noise.

Hermione suddenly frowns, looking just past the curtain, “well, Harry, put your chosen one powers to work, Cormac is coming this way. C’mon Luna, help me hide in the bathroom.” She ducks down and hurries out of the balcony, tugging Luna with her.

“Harry,” Draco simpers, “I love you terribly, I hope you’ll forgive me for abandoning you with Cormac.” With that, he too slips away, and Harry is left with no choice but to awkwardly greet Cormac as he pushes past the curtain.

“I think the girls left to powder their noses,” Harry explains.

“Slippery little minx,” Cormac drawls, “your friend is.” He grabs one of the treats Luna had given them all and pops it in his mouth, “what is this?” he asks with his mouth half full.

“Dragon balls,” Harry lies, just to watch Cormac go green in the face. He bends over and pukes, happening to get it all over Professor Snape’s shoes, who had only just appeared.

Snape raises an eyebrow, “you’ve earned yourself a month’s detention,” he sneers, before drawling out, “not so fast, Potter,” as Harry tries to escape. He thinks about just running but Severus has already cleaned his shoes and come to stand behind him.

“I think I should rejoin the party,” Harry tries, “Draco-“

“Can surely wait a moment without your presence,” Professor Snape drawls with more venom than strictly necessary. “I have a message from Headmaster Dumbledore. He wishes you the very best and hopes you enjoy your holiday,” coming from Severus it sounds less like a greeting and more like a wish for his death. “He’s travelling. Won’t be back until next term.”

“Going where?” Harry asks, but Snape has already stalked off. He watches the other go, but when no answer seems forthcoming he simply rejoins the party. He looks around the room twice, finding no sign of his blond, and only spotting Hermione and Luna on his second comb through.

“Do you know where Draco has disappeared to?” Harry asks, “I thought he might be with you?”

“We went to the girls' toilet, Harry,” Hermione tells him, “he couldn’t follow us even if he wanted to.”

“Maybe he went out into the corridor,” Luna sighs, “following his father.”

“I’ll have a look,” Harry agrees half-heartedly. He does another lap around the room before deciding to follow Luna’s advice and take a look outside it. Luna is right, Draco is talking with his uncle heatedly, both of them hissing like snakes. 

“I’m trying to protect you,” Severus almost begs, an unnerving show of emotion that makes Harry strangely itchy.

“I don’t need protection,” Draco retorts, “I was chosen for this, and I’m going to prove myself.”

“You don’t need to prove yourself,” Severus urges, “I can see you're pushing yourself too hard.”

“I’m not!” 

“You’re afraid,” Snape says softly, almost caring, “you’re exhausted.” He flicks his wand and suddenly Harry can see deep bags under Draco’s eyes, sunken cheeks and skin almost paper-thin.

Draco hastily recasts whatever spell he had up and scowls, “I’m fine, I don’t need your help. If you will excuse me I have to get back to the party now.” He storms off, heels clicking against the floor and Harry takes that as his queue to hurry back into the party. He grabs a drink and sits on a chair, pretending he’s been there the whole time since Draco left.

“Sorry I left you,” Draco whispers when he spots him, his shoulders tense even as he pretends to be nonchalant, “hope McLaggen didn’t give you too much trouble.”

“It’s alright,” Harry assures, letting Draco take the seat next to him. He reaches out to give him a quick kiss on the cheek, feeling magic tingle his lips that he hadn’t really noticed before. Draco smiles at him and seems to relax just a little bit. Harry feels his Gryffindor courage well up and he’s about to ask when Hermione and Luna sweep in and tug them all out to the dance floor.

Harry walks Draco back to the Slytherin dorms like a true gentleman, and as they hug at the door Harry doesn’t want to let go. It might be his imagination but it feels like Draco doesn’t want to let go either.

——

Harry should be taking Hermione’s advice, but Draco has been acting so odd recently. He doesn’t want to think the worst, but he’s taken to watching Draco on the map and sometimes slipping silently (and invisibly) behind him. It’s distressingly easy now, with Crabbe and Goyle absent more often than they are present.

The other problem is that they’ve been dating for a while now, officially boyfriends and everything, and yet Draco always feels distant. They barely get time for just the two of them, and even in a group, Draco seems off in his own head. A few nights ago Harry had taken Draco out on a date, just a casual one. They’d started getting a little more intimate, perhaps, but as soon as Harry tried to take off Draco’s jumper he was shoved off. Draco apologised, but left soon after, so something was obviously wrong. He hadn’t exposed his arms this year at all, even when he’s rolled up his pants from the sweltering weather. It makes Harry think the worst.

It doesn’t help that he’s already high strung from the attack on the Weasleys. He’d seen Bellatrix face to face, and all he could think of was Draco’s half-smile when she ruffled his hair. As she set the property on fire, all he could see was the tenderness she held when she led Draco down the hall. He can’t help but think of Pansy’s warning, and that maybe Draco’s being lead down a path by the people he thought he could trust.

Harry’s already got too much on his mind, with Slughorn and Draco, and it’s hard to keep track of schoolwork. He’s glad Ron seems to be similarly struggling, as he finds the redhead sitting on the floor in the middle of the night, just staring out the window.

“It’s a beautiful moon, don’t you think?” He mutters, staring at it dreamily.

“Yeah,” Harry agrees, taking in the sight of discarded wrappers all over his bed, “had a midnight snack, did you?”

“They were lying on your bed,” Ron admits, getting up and stumbling towards him, “just thought I’d have a snack and then suddenly I was eating the whole lot!”

“I can see that,” Harry scoffs.

“I can’t stop thinking about her,” Ron sighs, and it’s quite obvious who the ‘her’ is.

“Honestly, I thought she was starting to annoy you.”

“Annoy me? Never.” Ron sits down next to Harry and gets almost uncomfortably close, “I think I love her.”

“Brilliant,” Harry agrees, already scooting away.

“Do you think she knows I exist?” Ron asks, still hugging the chocolate box like a lifeline.

“I hope so, she’s been snogging you for months.”

“Snogging?” Ron cocks his head, his dreamy smile dimming, “who are you talking about?”

“Lavender,” Harry replies, an unspoken ‘duh’ hanging between them, “who are you talking about?”

“Romilda Vane,” Ron sighs, prompting a roll of Harry’s eyes.

“Haha,” he huffs, “is this for making out with Draco in front of you?”

Ron chucks the box at him, hitting him surprisingly well someone who usually blocks any incoming projectiles. “I’m not joking,” he insists, “I love her!”

“Alright, you love her,” Harry scoffs, “have you ever met her?”

“No,” Ron’s dejected face lasts only a second before he brightens again, “do you think you could introduce us.” As soon as the train of thought leaves through Ron’s mouth he forgets about it, turning instead back to the window. Harry watches him go warily, before checking over the chocolate box and spying the inside name, sighing as he reads the carefully penned ‘Love, Romilda’.

“Come on,” Harry sighs, reaching over to pull Ron up, “let me introduce you to Romilda.” He doesn’t bring him to Romilda of course, though it would be hilarious to let her suffer through Ron’s romance after her terrible idea but he doesn’t really want to do that to Ron either. He takes him to Slughorn as the resident potion master, or at least, the resident potion master who may or may not want to kill him.

Luckily Slughorn mixes up a remedy in no time at all, and Ron is blinking back into a normal state, feeling woozy.

“I feel terrible,” Ron admits, holding a hand to his forehead.

“I’ve got just the solution for that,” Slughorn hums, “better than any potion in my book.” He uncorks a bottle of wine, pouring it out into three glasses and handing it around. Harry privately muses the morals of giving children alcohol but a little Draco in his mind reminds him of the many Hogsmeade visits and he dismisses it.

Ron sculls his own drink, Harry preferring to simply swirl it in his glass. He wants to remain sharp if he’s going to try and coax the memory out of Slughorn again. The chance doesn’t come as Ron drops to the ground, foaming at the mouth and shaking.

Harry fusses for a second, leaning down to try and shake Ron out of it, but when that doesn’t work he grabs bezoar and hastily forces it down Ron’s throat. It takes a few more tense seconds before the foam clears, and another few before Ron starts breathing again.

“These girls are going to kill me,” Ron gasps out on the ground and Harry feels awfully like laughing with relief.

The teachers don’t share his mirth when they meet him in the hospital wing, talking amongst themselves about causes and problems and anything they should be doing. Harry stays by Ron’s side the whole time, Hermione as well. Lavender comes by for a memorable minute, only to be shunned by a still unconscious Ron who instead calls out Hermione in his state. She leaves in tears.

The worst reaction comes from Draco, who, after hearing of the details of the incident goes to the loo to throw up. Harry has to hold his hair and rub his back in-between his fits of sobs, and just hold him until he finally calms.

——

After Ron’s scare, the trio had new sympathy for Katie, so when she returns from the hospital they agree to eagerly greet her. Harry sees her first in the Great Hall and walks up as gently as possible. She looks shaken, still a little pale, but standing on her own just fine. There’s a thin line of strength in here, and Harry admires it after everything she’s been through. (A similar line runs through him, though he can’t see it.)

“Hi, Katie,” Harry greets, waving awkwardly, “how are you?”

Katie waves back, a little twitch of her hand really. “I’m okay, still a little shaky. I heard Ron also got sick like me?”

“Yeah,” Harry hums, “listen, I hate to ask this just after you’ve gotten out of hospital, but we don’t know who poisoned Ron, and we were wondering if you remembered anything about your own experience?”

“Sorry, Harry,” Katie says sincerely, “they asked me after I woke up too. I don’t remember anything about my attack, one minute I was going to the toilet and the next I was waking up. They had to explain what happened, and even still I only barely remember the necklace.” She grins weakly, averting her eyes in embarrassment. Harry opens his mouth to assure her it’s all fine when her face suddenly drains of colour. 

He grabs her shoulders, nervous that she’s about to fall but instead she feels like a stone under his hands, still staring at something just past his shoulder. Harry turns his head to follow her gaze and finds the equally pale face of Draco, staring back at her. His eyes flicker to Harry before he turns and dashes back out of the Great Hall, pushing past students in his haste to escape.

Harry calls over Hermione, handing Katie off to her to take care of while he follows Draco’s trail. His slight lag behind makes it harder to follow him, and he has to take out his map to find exactly where he is, surprised to find him hiding in the girls' bathroom.

He moves into the abandoned toilets quietly, worried about Draco shooting off a spell out of surprise. It doesn’t really matter, as Draco seems to focused on crying to hear Harry come in. He’s leaning against one of the sinks, staring at himself in the mirror as tears stream down his face. One hand is gripped almost desperately in his hair, making it stuck up in odd ways.

“Draco,” Harry calls, watching as the other’s head whips around, “did you do something to Katie?”

Draco gives a laughing-hiccup, one that sounds like a sob, “she’s terrified of me.”

“We can help you,” Harry says gently, trying a new angle, “if anyone threatened you into anything, we can get Dumbledore and we can help keep you safe!”

“Keep me safe?” Draco laughs, “you need to be safe from me! I’m terrible, Harry. I thought it would be fine but I just keep hurting people.”

“You don’t have to keep hurting people,” Harry tells him.

“I do!” Draco insists, “I have to. I hurt Katie, I tortured Ron, and I still have to kill-!” He cuts himself off, eyes going even wider at his own slip-up.

“You’re going to kill someone?” Harry asks, looking at Draco in a new light. He seems to sense this, eyes going wide and teary as he shakes his head. He stumbles forward and Harry catches his forearms so he doesn’t fall to the ground at his feet.

“I shouldn’t have told you,” Draco whispers desperately.

“Who do you have to kill?” Harry demands, “Draco, tell me, who do you have to kill?”

Draco looks wild, holding on to Harry as his tears clear. He seems to come into some sort of insane sanity, his eyes clearing but only desperation hiding in their depths. “You hate me now,” Draco mourns, “you do! You can’t remember this, Harry, please.”

“Draco,” Harry tries, equally desperate to stop this car crash unfolding before his eyes, “it’s okay.”  
Draco pulls out of his arms anyway, holding his wand so tightly his knuckles seem to glow white. “You have to forget, please forgive me.” He raises his wand, the word ‘obliviate’ forming on his lips. Harry scrambles for anything to stop the spell, anything to stop Draco and make him calm down. His mind only lands on the spells he had been staring at for months in his potions book, and he hastily casts one before Draco can.

Draco is knocked back by the force of the sectumsempra, and then as he lies on the ground blood blossoms through his clothes. He gasps for breath, eyes already unfocused. Harry rushes over, fluttering his hands nervously in the air before he settles on pressing them onto the wounds. They’re too long for his hands, and there are about four of them, though the blood is making it hard to see. He pushes down with one hand, trying to get his wand with his other blood slicked hand. He dropped it just out of reach, and he doesn’t want to risk letting go in case Draco will die.

Through his tears, Harry sees a dark form approach. He tenses until he recognises the person as Professor Snape. Severus rushes forward, shoving Harry’s hands out of the way as he quickly casts something over Draco’s wounds. The wounds are still bleeding red over the floor, but it seems to be slowed. Severus continues working, and when Harry reaches again to offer any help he’s harshly shoved off, with his Professor looking more murderous than ever before.

“Go,” Snape snarls, and then when Harry doesn’t move he practically roars at him to leave. Harry, tears budding stubbornly in his eyes, stumbles out of the bathroom and retreats to his dorms. 

The next he hears is that Draco had been moved to the hospital wing and was being put on a strict potions regimen. He overhead Pansy at dinner crying because Draco was so weak he could barely take them by himself. Harry feels horrible. He’s already forgiven Draco for everything, he’s seen how terrible he looks, how terrified he is. As much as he wants to see him, he finds any courage leaving him as soon as he reaches the doorway of the hospital wing, and each time he instead resolves to see him the next day. 

——

Fed up with everything, and running out of time, Harry decides on the only available option. He takes the luck potion, his Felix Felicis, and decides he’s getting that memory today. As soon as the potion hits his stomach he feels better, renewed. He knows intrinsically that everything will be going perfectly from now on, and not just because he thinks the potion will work.

“Well? How do you feel?” asks Hermione, watching him intensely. Ron’s wearing a similar face, though his is more concerned than curious. 

“Excellent,” Harry enthuses, “really excellent.”

Hermione nods, “remember, Slughorn usually eats early, takes a walk, and then returns to his office.”

“Great,” Harry nods, listening to where his magic is pushing him, “I’m going to see Hagrid.” Even though his friends attempt to get him back on track, Harry is adamant, and so to Hagrid’s he goes.

He spots Slughorn sneaking around the greenhouses and speeds over, popping up beside him to watch what he’s doing almost silently.

“Oh!” Slughorn gasps when he turns and sees Harry in his peripheral, “you scared me.”

“Sorry, sir,” Harry grins, “probably should’ve let you know I was here. Coughed or something. You were probably worried I was Professor Sprout.”

“What gives you that idea?” Slughorn asks as he puts some of his leaves away.

“The general sneakiness,” Harry explains, “not to mention you are taking some very interesting plants there.”

“Very expensive too,” Slughorn mutters before realising it’s almost an admission and trying to wave it away.

Harry ignores Slughorn’s stammering in favour of leaving, “I’ve got to visit Hagrid, Professor, here’s a dear friend of mine.”

“But it’s almost dark,” Slughorn protests, “I can’t let you walk around this close to nightfall.”

“Then come along,” Harry tells him, “but I really must be going.” So he heads off to Hagrids, a nervous Slughorn hot on his tail and nervously trying to explain why this is a terrible idea.

His rambling cut off abruptly as they come over the crest of a hill, and suddenly in front of them is Hagrid standing over a curled up dead…bug? It looks a bit like a spider.

“Is that an actual Acromantula?” Slughorn asks, coming closer and standing by Hagrid.

“A dead one I think,” Harry muses, looking at the beady eyes.

“However did you manage to kill it?” 

“Kill it?” Hagrid turns, “he was my best friend, he was.”

Harry’s only a little surprised. He honestly should have guessed after the giant dog and the giant, well, giant. A giant spider was not out of the realm of possibility for a Hagrid friend. Slughorn goes onto collect some venom while Hagrid waxes poetry about his eight-legged friend (probably not his only one, Harry’s got a feeling he’s also friends with the squid in the lake.) Slughorn takes over the funeral, and Harry stays by awkwardly as Slughorn and Hagrid return to drink themselves into a stupor. They talk about childhood pets and Harry is just glad none of them have realised he’s also available as a conversation companion.

Hagrid falls asleep into snores, and Slughorn continues on about his pet fish and flower petals and ‘beautiful magic’. Suddenly he turned serious, talking about his mother, and her death.

“I know why you’re here,” Slughorn says, “and I can’t help you.”

“Do you know why I’m still alive?” Harry asks, “because my mother sacrificed herself for me. Because her love was more powerful than Voldemort.”

“Don’t say his name,” Slughorn murmurs.

“I’m not scared of him. Let me tell you something, Professor, I am the chosen one. I am going to defeat Voldemort, but I need your help. I need you to tell me what he asked of you. Be brave, Professor., be brave like my mother.”

“Just, don’t think badly of me when you see it,” Slughorn requests, handing over a vial of silver. Harry and Dumbledore dive into the memory together and Harry bares witness to Voldemort’s first mention of wanting to build a Horcrux. Harry gains a new task that night, and he knows he needs to complete it before he’ll be able to live with himself or live at all as the prophecy foretells.

——

It’s a cowardly move, completing half his task when both Harry and Dumbledore are out. Draco doesn’t know what he’s hoping to avoid more, killing the Headmaster or seeing Harry’s face. Maybe if they take over the school quickly enough, he won’t have to see either of them. He doesn’t know if he could handle never seeing Harry again, never seeing Hermione or Ron or Luna. He might even miss the odd times he knocked into Neville.

He going to cry. He’s done that too much over the past few months, with every new failure and setback. He cried enough in that hospital wing to fill the Great Lake twice over, not that anyone but his most trusted saw. He needs to control himself now, a solid steel rod as he welcomes the Death Eaters into the castle.

They come in waves, groups of three or four travelling in together and leaving to create chaos in the Hogwarts grounds. He leaves quickly before most come through, too cowardly to watch them all come and instead he runs quickly to the Astronomy tower.

He hears Dumbledore talking with someone and races up to find him alone.

“Who else was here?” He asks desperately, “I heard you talking to someone.” He thought he heard Harry’s name, he doesn’t know what emotion that brings up in him.

“Sometimes I talk to myself, it’s incredibly useful,” Dumbledore dismisses as if Draco isn’t pointing a wand at him. “Do you talk to yourself?”

Draco shakes his head, barely muttering out a confused “no”.

“I know you are no assassin, Draco,” Dumbledore soothes out of nowhere.

“How do you know who I am?” Draco demands, more thrown off than anything, “I’ve done things that would disgust you.”

“Like curse Katie Bell, and Ron Weasley? Draco, I saw you after those, you were terrified more than murderous. Your heart was never in it.”

“I was chosen, tasked,” Draco rebuts, rolling up his sleeve to show Dumbeldore his Dark Mark. Harry sees it too, though his reaction is kept silent by his own hand over his mouth.

“And there are others with you?” Dumbledore asks as a door slams from down below, “how did they get in?”

“The Vanishing Cabinet,” Draco admits, “in the Room of Requirement. It has a sister and they become a passage.”

“That’s very impressive,” Dumbledore smiles at him like he’s proud, “a boy of your skill, you could be another you ever wanted, you don’t have to do this.”

“I do!” Draco insists, and a pattering up the stairs signals his time has run out. Bellatrix appears, Rabastan and Rodolphus following closely after.

“Draco,” she coos, coming up to gently run her hand through his hair, “oh, you’ve done so well for Our Lord.”

“It seems introductions are in order,” Dumbledore says mildly, “Bellatrix.”

“That would be lovely,” the woman smiles, “but I’m afraid we’re on a tight schedule. Draco, the floor is yours.”

Draco’s wand shakes, he can feel desperate tears building in his eyes. He doesn’t want to do this, he doesn’t want this at all. Bellatrix senses his hesitation and starts goading him on. Rodolphus joins a second later, though he doesn’t get as close as his wife.

Underneath the stairs Harry watches Severus join the party silently, stopping their calls in their tracks as he appears. He and Dumbledore just look at each other, and Harry feels like he’s watching a thousand conversations take place between them.

“Severus,” Dumbledore finally says, “if you please.”

Snape takes but a breath before he’s speaking the killing curse and Dumbledore goes flying off the edge of the tower. Harry wants to cry out, scream, curse everyone standing in that room, but he stays silent until they leave. Dumbledore’s body seems to float to the ground until the last second when the crunch he hears makes it obvious he’s gone.

Draco follows his family as they continue on a stampede through the school, smashing glass, breaking bricks, tearing paintings from the walls. He stands in utter shock as they break anything and everything in their path, not slowing down. He’s just glad the students are in their dorms, and he hopes the staff will help keep them safe.

They leave the castle itself and walk the grounds, moving in a beeline to Hagrid’s hut.

“Snape!” Draco hears Harry yell, “he trusted you!”

“Harry,” Draco breathes, just watching as the other comes up the hill in a rage. He wants to run to him, hide behind him like he’ll protect him from the chaos following the Death Eaters.

“Go,” Severus barks, already blocking Harry’s spells. Draco feels someone grab his arm, and he makes desperate eye-contact with Harry before the tug of apparition pulls him away from Hogwarts.

Harry lets out a wordless scream of frustration, sending another volley of spells that Snape deflects with ease. He gets hit with something, landing flat on his back, but gets back up again, driven purely by rage.

“Sectum Sempra!” He yells, only for another spell to knock him off his feet.

“You dare use my own spells against me?” Snape growls, “Potter, I am the Half-Blood Prince.”

Harry watches him go, his exhausted and battered body finally giving up on him as he passes out, lit by the flames of Hagrid’s hut.

——

The impromptu funeral for Dumbledore had driven Voldemort’s symbol out of the sky, but the school still remains in ruins. Every corridor has something else missing or broken, and the early morning light casts everything in shades of grey. He’s standing by Hermione and Ron in the tower, looking out across the grounds.

“Was it Draco?” Hermione asks softly as if scared to upset their balance.

“No, he was terrified,” Harry scoffs, “in the end it was Snape. And I did nothing.”

“So, Draco is still here?” Ron pipes up, leaning on a rail further from the edge.

“They took him,” Harry snarls, “just stole him out of Hogwarts. I lost him, I lost Dumbledore, and the necklace isn’t even the real thing.” He passes it over to Hermione, who gently turns it over in her hand. “It’s meant to be a Horcrux, I have to destroy all the ones Voldemort made before I can kill him.”

“You mean we have to,” Hermione says mildly.

“What? No, I-“

“Of course we’re coming with you,” Ron tells him sternly, “we’re you’re friends.”

“And we’ll help you find Draco too,” Hermione soothes.

“Thank you,” Harry smiles, drawing them both in for a hug. The future is terrible, but at least in this moment he’s still got them. At least in this moment there’s still hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys, I was (spins wheel of excuses) distracted because my...friends...dads...dogs...fish died. But! There is a more obvious plot now, that hopefully doesn't feel too out of the blue.
> 
> Really, I apologise this took ages, I had a major writers block. I'm very tired right now so there are probably a few errors, which brings me to my first point/request, please let me know if you want me to fix any mistakes. While procrastinating writing I read through some of my newer chapters and had to fix them up, I know I make many spelling errors that Grammarly doesn't pick up on. Just let me know if you find any, or, when you find any.
> 
> Secondly, I know I've just come back from a major break, but I feel like this fic has expanded past it's summary. If anyone has any ideas, or just thoughts on my little blurb feel free to let me know. As always if you have any ideas at all about this fic let me know, I get inspired very easily. (I have 15+ fanfics in some stage of writing as we speak, I always welcome more fanfic even if I never finish it.)
> 
> Speaking of overwriting, the last year will probably be split similarly to the movie. This year is ~14,000 words, and I think cutting the next year in half will be beneficial for everyone. I've roughly planned out most of it, so it's really just getting stuck into the writing stage now.
> 
> Lastly, just letting you guys know I give blanket permission to utilise my work as long as credit is given. (That doesn't include reposting, unless it's a translation). Please let me know if you ever feel so particularly inspired, I would absolutely adore it. (Though no pressure, simply reading it makes me delighted as well.) I've been asked on a different fic and I'm working on putting this in all of my story notes so it'll probably also appear somewhere else.
> 
> As always, I love you guys so much. Honestly comments, kudos, views etc give me life! I hope you enjoyed, and I hope you have a great day!


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